Against Destiny
by CannedCream
Summary: A broken digivice traps a young boy named Andrew Roth in the Digital World and binds him to a less than enthused Renamon. As they look for a way to return the boy home, the two discover his appearance may not be the accident it first seemed; and that they alone stand against a dark force that has already gathered its army.
1. Foreword

**Foreword**

Greetings, Reader.

The story you are about to read (or hopefully even re-read) is one that I first wrote years ago. It was a little rough around the edges and littered with typos, yet it was a story that I very much enjoyed writing and even to this day, I still get the occasional favorite or review.

Recently, I got to thinking about this tale again, about Andrew Roth and the Renamon that became his Partner, so I went back over my work. What I found was, despite the problems, I actually still enjoyed the story and I felt that, with a little polish, it could really shine.

Over three days I went through the story, chapter by chapter, fixing (hopefully all of!) the typos and the grammar mistakes, improving the flow of the story, and at times adding entirely new parts to the story where I thought more detail was required.

What you are about to read in the fruit of that labor, and while the overall story is the same as ever, I hope that the changes that have been made (including an extended Epilogue) entertain you.

Also, if you'll permit me to be straightforward, I absolutely love the reviews I get, and I encourage you to take a moment and pass on your thoughts, if so inclined. Also, if you liked the story, feel free to show it to your friends, family, pets, house plants, what have you!

Thank you, and enjoy!


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Andrew Roth had fought with his mother that morning, just has they had fought yesterday and the day before; just as they had a hundred times over for almost a year now. Something had changed between them ever since the accident that took his father's life; something that prayed on their nerves and caused them to explode at one another over the smallest and dumbest of instances. If his room was messy there was a fight, if he left his backpack in the hallway there was a fight, if one of them made an off-hand remark there was one fight after another.

It wasn't that his home life was neglected or abusive. There was always food on the table and no bill ever went unpaid, and not once did his mother ever lay a single hand upon him no matter how much he might have deserved otherwise, but so little of that seemed important during the moments they were shouting at one another at the drop of a hat.

On most days he would just shut himself in his room for an hour or so until they both cooled down and then everything could go back to something like normal. However today's verbal brawl had been particularly vicious, and by the time it ended (or at came to a point where one of them was bound to lose their voice if they went any longer) the boy no longer thought he could find peace even within the quiet sanctity of his own room. What he needed was to get out of the house entirely and go somewhere, anywhere, just as long as that place was far away from his home, his mother, and the arguments.

So on that warm July afternoon that's just what he did. The young boy stepped out of his home, slamming the door behind him just for extra effect, and headed down the street of his plain suburban home perched just outside the city limits.

Even if a fog of hurt anger wasn't already clouding his mind, the young boy had no way of knowing that it was going to be a long, long time before he ever saw his house, mother, or even his _world_ again.

The gears that controlled his destiny began to turn with a heavy lurch.

O O O

Andrew walked the streets of his city with little direction or purpose. In that time he didn't care where he was going just as long as he was walking, moving, doing anything to keep himself occupied.

His mind repeatedly tried to making him think about the last fight, or how things had gone so wrong with his once normal family. That was the last thing he wanted to do. All he was interested in was cooling off and calming down before he headed home, and since he was constantly getting himself worked up every time he began to come down as his brain kept turning back to a fight he could not even remember the cause of, Andrew ended up putting a lot of distance between himself and his house.

The quiet streets of his suburb had long since given way to a commercial district. Small shops and offices stood on either side of the street where the traffic had increased to a steady pace. The sidewalk, which he had had mostly to himself, was now being shared with dozens of other people. Cars zoomed by in a constant parade, an airplane roar far overhead, and from somewhere across the street came the sound of a guitar.

Instead of being able to turn his mind to a state of blank serenity he was now forced to concentrate on not running into anyone around him. Where as before he was able to move and stop at leisure he was now being forced to keep pace with the foot traffic as if they were cattle heading down an assembly line. When they chance came to free himself from the herd and take a moment to catch his breath, he took it.

Ducking into a good sized alley between an antique store and an office building, Andrew leaned against a wall, trying to gauge just how far he had walked. He was tired, that much he knew, but as to where he was exactly was a different matter.

Not that he was too worried. He had lived in this city all of his life and could easily find his way back to familiar territory, and if got too mixed up he still had his cell phone. He could always call his mom and have her pick him up. She wouldn't be happy about it and would probably spend the entire drive back lecturing him about not running off on his own, but he felt like he could take it... but not just yet. He needed a little more time before he was ready to head back into the war zone that had become his life. As for now, he came to a unanimous decision with himself to just chill out here.

Andrew bent down and picked up a small pebble from the ground, tossing down the alley as if skipping it across the surface of a pond; a silly timewaster, but soothing in its own way.

It was on his third bend to grab a piece of chipped concrete that he happened to glance forward and saw something lying just behind the wheel of a dumpster a little further down from where he stood. For a moment he simply remained the way he was; crouched over like a runner on a track getting readying for the starting gun as he tried to puzzle together what he was looking at.

The object was a shiny blue and gray in color and looked totally out of place in the alley. He kept waiting for his brain to place the name of the item in his mind, to tell him that he was just looking at a candy wrapper or broken piece of ... something, but it never came. The more he looked at it, the more interested he was in finding out exactly what the mystery prize was, so with a light shrug as if to ask 'what am I waiting for', Andrew stood and headed for the dumpster.

He had to drop to one knee to get his hand in the space between the dumpster and the ground. His fingers wrapped around the object, which felt like hard plastic, and pulled it out and whatever hopes he had to identifying the thing after getting a good look at it faded quickly.

It was egg shaped colored blue in the middle with gray stripes running around the sides and wrapping into the back. At the wider end there was a small screen and what appeared to be the small nub of an antenna of some kind. Near the stop sat a small screen above a handful of unmarked buttons.

To Andrew it looked like a portable TV, but the screen far too small to see anything on. It might have also been an MP3 player of some kind, but if so it wasn't like any brand he had ever seen before.

_Well, whatever it is, it not working,_ he figured. None of the buttons seemed to do anything and, as far as he was able to see, there wasn't any place to put in batteries or attach a charger. Whatever it was he was hold seemed to be ultimately pointless, yet still kinda cool, and since it looked like whoever owned it before just tossed it away, Andrew decided that it would be okay if he held on to it.

Stuffing the object into his empty pocket, the boy turned and started to head back to the street. He was finally starting to feel better and decided that he had been out long enough for today.

Starting to make his exit, Andrew got no further than two steps before the strangest feeling came over him. The world around him began to blur, like he was looking through a camera lens that was slowing being turned out of focus. Turning his eyes down to look at himself, Andrew saw that his own body was still as clear as ever; it was everything else that was going out of focus around him, fading into a white light that hurt his eyes a little. Squinting, the boy felt ready to cry out for help when he suddenly fell. It wasn't a 'losing your balance' kind of fall, but more like someone had opened up a trapdoor beneath his feet. The world around him had all vanished into pure a white glow leaving the boy with no firm ground to stand upon and nothing to grab on to, leaving him to fall, tumbling down into an endless, empty abyss.

O O O

At some point during the night Andrew must have kicked the sheets off his bed, because he felt a cool breeze caressing his entire body. He didn't remember turning his overhead fan on that night or leaving the window open, but he must have. Keeping his eyes shut, Andrew reached down for the blanket so he could pull it back up around him shoulders the way he liked, but could not find them. He moved his hand back and forth, but each time it came up empty. It was as he beginning to awaken from his sleepy stupor that he noticed how his mattress didn't feel right at all; it was hard and poking into him in some places, there also seemed to be no pillow under his head.

It was at that moment that everything came rushing back to him in one huge wave. Andrew sat bolt upright, his eyes shooting open and found himself in the last place he would have never suspected: a forest.

Andrew stood up slowly, trying to look everywhere at once. The afternoon sun had lowered to that of early evening, meaning he had been out for a few hours, but how did he even end up in the middle of the woods? As far as he knew there weren't any forests around the city, just a lot of in-fill suburbs and highways. Checking his pockets he found both his cell phone as well as the thing he picked up from the ally were still there, so he hadn't been robbed, and as far as he could tell he was unhurt; even the woozy feeling he had earlier was gone. So then that begged the question: who would take him from an alley in the middle of a busy street just to dump him in the middle of the woods? It made no sense...

Whatever the answer was, he wasn't too interested in it, anyway. All he wanted was to go home.

Before the idea of calling his mother had just been a quaint possibility, but now it was more like a necessity. Opening his phone, he called his house and after a few seconds of waiting be was greeted by only the sound of a shrill beep followed by a recorded voice saying his call could not be completed as dialed. It then helpfully suggested that he check the number and try again before hanging up. Andrew took the advice, the fingers that punched in the number to his house starting to shake, but he received the same result. Glancing at his signal strength, Andrew saw the reason for his phone problems: no bars. There was not a single hint of a connection out here, and that deeply worried him. Just how far away from the city was he if he couldn't get a call out?

Andrew had heard that in times like this he was supposed to stay where he was and wait for rescue, but he thought that only applied to when people _knew_ you were lost in a forest somewhere. He had no way of knowing when is mother would start to get worried and call the police. Even when she did, they would probably start by looking around their home and spreading outward from there, so how long before they made it all the way out to… wherever he was? Days? Weeks? Longer?

_No, the smart thing to do now is to keep moving in one steady direction, _he told himself, trying to keep calm. _Sooner or later I have to come upon something. Right?_

Even his own interior voice didn't show so sure of that.

Time passed and the sun set lower into the sky, yet no matter how far he walk he saw no signs of civilization, and with each passing minute his feelings of dread grew, as did the un shakable sensation of being watched. Several times he stopped and looked around, but always saw nothing. There were no footsteps other than his own, only this low buzzing as if made by a bee or some such insect; not exactly an out of place sound way out here.

It continued on until he finally stopped to rest on a fallen tree trunk. The trip though the woods mixed with his walk through town left him exhausted despite his unwanted nap. He needed a minute to catch his breath and get his bearings.

That was when the buzzing grew to its loudest level. It now sounded right behind him and came a voice, one that was very clear and strong, but defiantly not human.

"Well, it izzz about you stopped," it spoke, the zone seeming to match the buzz of wings he heard. "I don't think my apatite could hold any longer."

Whipping his head around so quickly that it was a wonder he didn't hurt himself in the process, Andrew found himself being stared down by what looked like a gigantic wasp; one which a long, wicked looking stinger poised directly at him.

"You must be about the ugliest Digimon I have ever seen, but I am sure you will taste much better than you look."

Andrew tried to stand up, but the fear had turned his legs into mush causing him to instead collapse onto his side. Desperatly, he tried to get back up to his feet, but was unable to get enough strength into his shaking arms; a feeble attempt that only seemed to amuse the monster that could only have come out of his deepest nightmares to devour him whole. It turned out that the grown-up were wrong; there really were such things as monsters, and they did feast upon children.

"P-please. Stop," he pleaded, his eyes never blinking as he watched the thing's jerky movements.

"That izzz right; beg. Squirm. It alwayzzz makezzz the meal more pleasurable," it taunted.

The boy closed his eyes tight and buried his face into his arms, unable to fight through the terror brought on by the impossible creature that hovered before him. Andrew lay there, smelling the sweet grass and feeling the soft breeze wash over his body as he waited for the pain to begin as he was devoured.

The buzzing sound the creature's wings made grew in volume as it drew closer, almost deafening him, yet somehow over the noise he was able to hear the new voice. It seemed to come from the trees just above him. It was a female voice as far as he could tell, and it called out two words in a tone that was strong and demanding, one which seemed to hold no fear whatsoever. When it spoke, it did so with authority, and even thought what he heard sounded nonsensical to his year, there was an undeniable viciousness to them.

"Diamond Storm!"

**To be continued.**


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"Diamond Storm!"

The words rang clearly in his ears as if they were all inside some small room rather than a vast forest. There came a sound like the very air around him was being sliced open a hundred times over at an uncomfortably close distance away from where he was sprawled out on the grass and fallen leaves. Andrew didn't want to open his eyes, didn't want to see exactly what had come for him now in this horrible place where there were giant talking wasps and no satellite signals, but there was still a part of him (a part stronger than the one that wished to hide, to disappear into the very ground again if he was able) that wanted-needed-to see what was happening.

Andrew cracked open an eye in time to see the monster burst apart into a sphere of light, its face frozen in a twisted state of agony in the last seconds of life before it was completely smothered out by the glowing white light. Right before the boy's eyes, both the light and the monster wasp faded away into nothing.

He was less than a few seconds away from being eating whole by a giant insect, and something, somewhere, had saved him... or was planning on eating him, also. For all he boy knew he might have just jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire.

There was a rustling in the trees just above and to the left of him. Sitting up, Andrew cast his eyes up toward the noise and saw something leap from one of the branches and into the air. The figure seemed to hang in place for a full second before heading towards the ground. At the height of its jump it was being silhouetted by the light of the setting sun, causing Andrew to turn his head away to free his eyes from the glare, so he didn't so much as see her land as he heard it; a dull and soft thud as the grass bent and the dead leaves broke beneath its feet.

With the spots already fading from his vision, Andrew turned his attention back to whatever had either just saved his life, or had simply added a few more minutes onto it. The boy was steeling himself to be face-to-face with some new hideous, horrible monster that would look like it crawled out of one of those B-movie horror flicks he used to sometimes sneak into the living room late at night to watch after his mother had gone to sleep. With thoughts of sharp teeth and dripping fangs in mind, Andrew was more than just a little shocked when he got his first real look at his savior.

Instead of some kind of unspeakable horror, what he found instead was a fox; or what sort of looked vaguely like a fox, anyway. The creature was tall (well, taller than he was. In truth through she was probably no bigger than an average adult) and stood upright on long, powerful looking legs. Her fur was a mostly yellow hue except for the white on her stomach, hands, feet, and the tips of her ears and tail. There was a long, thick mane that flowed over her chest and halfway down her back. What struck him the most, though, where her eyes: two deeply blue marbles floating in a pool of blackness. The stare they gave off was piercing and wary, but not exactly un-kind.

As he looked into her face, he saw her hand move out of the corner of his eye. Instinctively he flinched away from it like an abused animal in fear of being attacked again. Instead of coming at him, the arm only reached down at towards him; not in a threading fashion, but rather to help get him to his feet.

Andrew looked at hand which had only three finger and one thumb with a wickedly sharp looking claw at the end of each. He was hesitant to take that hand for fear of what might happen once he was in its grasp, but if this fox-like creature really meant to hurt him wouldn't he be dead already?

Seeing no other option (running sure hadn't worked so far) Andrew took the hand and was yanked to his feet. As soon as he was stable the hand let go taking with it all the fear he had of all of this being some kind of elaborate trick. Andrew began to believe that he was indeed looking at his savoir rather than executioner, and with that filter of fear taken off of his eyes he was able to see something that he had missed before when he was only looking at pieces of the picture before him; the fox-creature appeared to be female. As if to clarify this, the fox spoke directly to him for the first time since saving his life.

"So now," she said with a feminine voice both cool and calm as if everything that had happened as was still happening was as mundane as waiting for a bus. Running her eyes up and down his body, the fox made a single slow circle around the boy, as if inspecting him. "Just what kind of Digimon are you, exactly? Must not be too high-level if you didn't even try to put up a fight. You don't look In-Training, so Rookie then? Am I right?"

Andrew opened his mouth and tried to speak, producing a short grunt that might have been the word 'I' before his tongue simply went dead in his throat. Too much had happened too fast and his mind was reeling from it, and now he was being asked questions that he didn't even understand let alone could even begin to know how to answer.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," he said after remembering how to speak again.

She had used the word 'Digimon' just as the wasp-thing had called him; it was a word that he had heard before, but only in passing at school.

There were stories that circulated about other worlds with powerful creatures in them who were called Digimon, but Andrew had always thought stories were all they were. Andrew might have been young, but one thing he had always prided himself on was how mature he was. As far as he was concerned things like monster and ghosts were just as silly as Santa or the Easter Bunny. Maybe such tales were enough to amuse others, but he wasn't a little elementary school kid anymore, and as far as he was concerned if it wasn't something he couldn't see, touch, taste, or smell than it simply didn't exist.

Before he would listen to such stories the same way one might listen to an unfunny joke they had to sit through, but now it seemed like the impossible was staring him right in the face.

"I'm no Digimon," he continued, taking a wild guess that his hunch was right. "I-I'm a human."

Her face, which up until then had been a blank, unreadable slate, changed. It wasn't a huge one and had he not be looking right at her he might not have even seen it at all, but she did appear to be surprised by his words, all be it only a little.

"A human?" the fox repeated with a raised brow. "It's been years since any human has ever been here. How did you get here anyway, kid?"

"I'm not a kid, either" he responded with a little more heat than was probably necessary, but he hated being referred to as a child more than anything. "My name is Andrew Roth and I'm not sure _how_ I got here, exactly. The last thing I remember I was walking down the street and I saw this thing under a dumpster," digging into his pocket Andrew pulled out the plastic device and showed it to her. "I pick it up and then the next thing I know I wake up here with some… some _bug_ trying to kill me."

Now the fox's face really did change. The calmness of both her expression and tone were replaced by surprise and anger.

"Give me that!" she cried as she snatched it from his hand. She looked at it for a moment as if making absolutely sure she was seeing what she thought she was seeing. When she was positive beyond a shadow of a doubt what Andrew had pulled out of his pocket she stuck it inches from his face.

"Where did you find this?" she demanded, her voice now suspicious and edging on anger. "Did you steal it? Why is it broken? What have you done?"

Andrew took a step back, fearing for his life again. He had no idea that such fury could be hidden by what was seconds ago a tranquil expression, but then even the calmest oceans can bring out destructive waves.

Andrew could feel tears trying to well up in his eyes, but he forced them back down. He had worked too hard to gain back this level of composure and he didn't want to lose it now. But everything was happening too fast. Andrew might have been able to keep the tears out, but his voice seemed eager to betray him.

"I-I-I didn't! I mean," Andrew stammered "I found it that way! It was just lying on the ground and I took it because it looked cool, but I didn't steal it, or break it, or-or anything! I swear!"

She looked at him as if trying to decide if he was telling the truth or not. Her blue eyes felt like they were piercing into his very core, making Andrew think that he would have done anything to be free from their weight. When the fox spoke again, it was as if she had never been angry at all.

"Sorry if I spooked you kid, that wasn't my intention," she sighed.

Under his breath, the boy mumbled about not being _that _scared, but the fox ignored it.

"You don't know what you have here, do you?" she asked motioning to the object still in her hand. Andrew said he didn't, and she began to explain. "What you have is a very important machine called a digivice. These are given to a very special few who are known as Digi-Destined; young boys and girls usually around your own age who are called into the Digital World-that's where you are now-to defend it whenever a strong enough force as risen with the power to potentially alter or destroy this world. You get all that?"

Andrew shook his head is disbelief. "That... that sounds insane."

"Maybe. But look at where you are now and think of what's happened. Does this really look like your world to you? I might not have ever seen your world, but I do know for a fact that my kind do not openly dwell within it."

He opened his mouth to say something, to dispute her wild claims, but one look into the fox's narrowing eyes and Andrew thought it was best to stay quiet.

"The reason I became so upset," she continued, "was if humans are here again then that could mean that something is coming, something very bad." She looked up to the sky above the treetops where the very first of the night's starts were starting to appear. "However, I haven't seen or heard anything unusual... and you did say you didn't exactly _receive_ this thing so much as stumbled upon it, right?" she asked, not waiting for the answer. "So then maybe all of this was just... some kind of fluke; an accident? Could be that you found an old, broken digivice of some past Digi-Destined that had just enough juice to spirit you here. At least, that's what I hope..."

To Andrew this all still sounded completely insane. He didn't want to believe that he had somehow stumbled through to another world; it was too stupid to even entertain. Yet, he still could not deny that this place was far away from his home. Something was going on here that wasn't normal, that much he knew for sure.

"How do I get home, then?" Andrew asked, wanting to cut right to the meat of the topic. "If that thing, that digivice brought me here can it take me back?"

"I don't know. Sorry. That's probably not what you want to hear, but I really don't know," she shrugged.

With a small sigh the boy looked down at his feet, suddenly feeling too tired to hold his own head up. He had no idea just what he was going to do. He was as good as trapped here, and if that wasp-Digimon-thing was any indication of the things that lurked here, he was likely to be dead by morning

"Hey, cheer up there, rookie. Look at me," the fox said in a tone that was almost kind; at least within the neighborhood of it, anyway. Andrew raised his head as he was told to do and met her gaze. "I might not know how to help you, but maybe I can help you find someone who does, okay? I'll at least get you that far. I suppose I can't just leave you out here alone."

Andrew was surprised to hear that, to say the least. Looking into her face, he could tell that she was thinking _something_ behind that stony expression, but as to what, he had no idea.

"Why would you help me?" Andrew asked since by all accounts the woman did not seem to exactly like him.

"Because otherwise you'd die," she answered, her response as honest as it was blunt.

"Th-thank you. Thank you so much, for everything. I-I don't even know what your name is..."

"Renamon," she said as she held out her hand to him a second time. At first Andrew thought that Renamon was going to shake his hand, but instead he saw she was holding out the digivice he had found; returning it to him.

The boy reached and touched the small object.

They both felt it at the same time: a small bolt of electricity that coursed through their hands. Andrew and Renamon simultaneously released their grip on the digivice, pulling back from the shock.

Whereas the thing should have fallen into the brush below as soon as it was released, it instead hung in midair. It stayed floating in place for several seconds before rising upwards where it stopped just a little above their heads. A voice then radiated from it; a mechanized female one that Andrew immediately related to the one that told him his phone call could not be completed as dialed. This voice, however, had a much difference message to give.

"Digital Device activated. Beginning self-repair process. Self-repair process completed. Beginning registration process. Please remain as still as possible for registration. Thank you."

A white beam, much like that from a powerful flashlight, shot out from the device's screen and when it struck his chest he could physically feel it. The experience wasn't painful in any way, but he suddenly felt as though he weren't alone in his own skin. The warning about staying still wasn't even required; he didn't think he could move even if he tried. The beam then turned off, taking with it the strange feeling and the paralysis.

"Tamer: Andrew confirmed," it spoke, much to the surprise of the boy it called by name.

The exact same action then repeated for Renamon who looked like she the same things that Andrew did and was just as confused by it all. She bared her teeth at the device (very white and very sharp from what he could see). Then, just as it had for him, the light vanished.

"Partner: Renamon confirmed. Welcome to the Digital World."

The device then floated over above Andrew's head where it waited for only a moment before falling like a rock. The last thing the boy wanted to do was touch the thing after all of that, but his knee-jerk reaction had him catching it anyway as if fell pefectly into his hands.

When the digivice landed in his palms he first expected to feel that shock again, except it never came. The device had gone back to the same inanimate state as before, only... it wasn't exactly the same. It held an energy now that Andrew could not quite place. Now longer was this thing a meaningless piece of plastic, it was something more, something greater than it had been now that it had finished that strange task.

Looking up at fox, Renamon, Andrew saw that she was stunned; actually _stunned_ by what had transpired. Andrew wanted to talk to her, ask her if she had any idea what just happened and what it meant, but he never needed to. The way Renamon raised a hand to her face, rubbing her eyes with her thumb and forefinger like she was fight back against a massive migraine told the boy everything he needed to know. And just to drive the point home, Renamon then breathed a single word of frustration:

"Shit."

**To be continued.**


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Renamon was, by all terms and definitions, a fighter. This was a way of life that she seemed to be born to play. And for a Digimon, wasn't such a bad thing. Ever since she was first born as Viximon she had devoted her life to the art of the fight. When many of the other Digimon who were In-Training were playing, she was already working on honing her skills. She was a prodigy to her teachers and an annoyance to her peers, both of which she took with great pride. Just as Andrew felt much self-gratification in how 'grown-up' he was for his age, Renamon did the same with her strength. It really came as no surprise to anyone that she was first within her class to digivolve into the Rookie level she was today.

It wasn't too long after this transformation that she packed up what little she owned and left the Daycare she was born and trained in. As Renamon she felt as though she had learned all that she could from her teachers, and that the only real challenges left for her were out there in the wilderness of the Digital World, not in these safe, closed off Daycare center.

Her plan had her leaving in the middle of the night while the rest were sleeping soundly in their beds. What she was doing wasn't anything wrong, in fact it was expected for the students to leave and find their own place in the world once they were prepared enough, however there was often a formal ceremony for such things; pretty much 'going away' parties. There was music, dancing, games, and (of course) food. The parties were a grand event that were highly anticipated and often talked about for weeks afterward.

Renamon, however, wasn't interested in any of that foolishness. Besides, it wasn't like she had any friends who would want to attend her farewell anyway, she saw it best for everyone if she just slipped out. In the morning they would find her bed empty and her things gone. While Renamon didn't think of any of her classmates to be all that bright, they should be able to put two and two together.

She had spent the days after her transformation getting used to her new body. Instead of being a little four-legged ball of fluff with ears and tail she grown tall and was able stand upright. It was amazing how different the world look to her now and the new power she felt coursing through her was far beyond anything she could have dreamed, and this was all only in her Rookie form! Think of just how powerful she could be as a Champion, or Ultimate, or (if she should dare to dream so big) a Mega.

Around the parameter of their land stood a tall, decorative wood fence. While being very pretty it was also used to keep any intruders out as well as keep any overly-adventurous Digimon in; a purpose it no longer served for her. She had soon learned that her new, powerful legs could easily send her soaring above it and down safely to the other side, and this was exactly what she was planning to do that night. She had already been in mid crouch, ready to push herself up and into the air, when a voice came floating across the wind to her ears.

"You may want to think about what you are about to do," it casually informed her.

She recognized the voice immediately; it belonged to her favorite teacher and perhaps the only person in the whole school she respected: Agumon. He was an elderly Digimon who had seen many things over those years. There were even rumors among the students that he was once a partner to a Digi-Destined, although no one could really say for sure, and if asked, Agumon would only smile. Renamon didn't know if there was any truth to that rumor herself, but that was never real important to her. What did matter was that no one else was able to get the same level of performance and perfection out of her then he could, or drive her to reach so close to her limits. Agumon would be the one thing about this place she would miss.

"Don't try and stop me," she said as she stood back up and turned to face him.

"I didn't say I was trying to stop you, only that you should think about your next move."

"I've learned everything that I could from here. There's nothing else for me. Out there, though," she motioned beyond the gate, "out there is a world filled with challenges."

Agumon let out a soft sigh. "Why not wait to say goodbye to the others? Surely your friends will want to-"

"I don't have friends," she interrupted. "I don't need any. Depending on others is a weakness. Real power comes from within."

"I deeply hope you do not mean that," Agumon said, looking at her with sad eyes. "Renamon, you were the greatest student I have ever taught, and I fully believe that there is no limit to what you could do, but I fear for you, I really do. I fear for what your fate may be if continue you live your life so closed up. Someday you may find in need of help. What will you do then?"

She turned away from her former teacher, unable to look him in the eye any longer. If she waited even a second longer, doubt would start to set in and she might just lose her confidence. She couldn't allow that to happen. Maybe companionship was required for others, but she was fine on her own.

"Goodbye, Master Agumon," she whispered and then leapt over the fence in one smooth and graceful motion. She ran off into the night, fighting back the tears that kept trying to rise up in her eyes all the while reminding herself that she was fine on her own, she was fine on her own.

The next time Renamon would return to this school, it would be burning.

Now, many years later, the same fox that knew she would never sink so slow as to ask for the help of another, made one gesture of kindness in protecting what looked to her as a pathetically weak Digimon, only to find herself shackled to a human child instead.

**O O O **

Andrew looked down at the device in his hand, then up to Renamon, then down the device again. He appeared deeply confused to say the least.

"What was that?" he cried out, sounding just as upset as Renamon (who was now leaning her forehead against a tree, hands clutching the trunk tight enough to leave claw marks) felt. "I thought you said it was broken."

"It was broken, at least; it looked like it." Renamon was trying to hold in her anger, trying not to explode again like she did a moment before. Why did this happen? Why to her? She was doing just fine on her own, making an easy living in the middle of one of the more hostile woods in the Digital realm where she could fight to her heart's content until such a point came where was able to grow even more powerful, but now all of that had come to a screeching halt thanks to one stupid kid.

"So, what did all that mean?" the child pressed, raising her ire.

"What it _means _is that now I'm stuck with you," she snapped as she whirled around to glare at the boy. "My strength is now tied directly in with yours and, to top it all off, I can't even freaking digivolve without you. Shit, I mean... shit! What did I do to deserve this?"

"I'm... I'm sorry," he answered in a tiny whisper.

Renamon was all set to really lay into the brat, she was actually looking forward to it, but when the kid apologized he just sounded so... pathetic, so completely upset and helpless that all of the anger she was building up rushed out of her as if someone and opened a drain. It wasn't his fault, she knew that. He didn't want to be here any more than she wanted to be a Partner to him or anyone else. They both had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time and here he was apologizing for something he had no control over.

Well, at least now she was _sure_ this kid was no Digi-Destined, no way was he tough enough. Therefore, this all had to be a fluke. The digivice probably really was busted, just not to the extent she thought it was. It obviously still had enough juice to get him here, as well as mistakenly combine the two of them as Tamer and Partner, but this was surely just due to its age or condition; a wire must have crossed with another or some chip inside of it burned out, that was all. That _had_ to be it. This kid was just way to weak to be a Destined, case closed.

"Look, rookie, don't worry about it, okay?" Renamon breathed. "It's not your fault. We'll get this all figured out and get you back home, no problem."

Andrew nodded, appearing grateful that she wasn't angry at him, or at least not openly so. She still didn't feel all that happy with what had happened, though. That hadn't changed.

"So what's the plan?" he asked.

Renamon thought for a moment, but a moment was all she needed before deciding. "Unchanged," she said with a small nod. "I'm still taking you to someone who might know how to get you back home."

"Okay, but who's that, and where are they?"

"Tomorrow," she responded, turning her attention to the sky. It was full dark now and the only light came from that of a half-moon rising high into the night air. Renamon had no problem being in these woods at night, but the kid probably wouldn't like it much, and the last thing she wanted was to have to babysit him all night long out here.

"My home's not far away from here," she informed the boy. "We'll spend the night there and tomorrow I'll explain everything."

"Sounds good to me, how long of a walk is it?"

"Oh, we're not walking," she said as she turned around so that her back was to the boy before getting down on one knee. She looked over her shoulder and motioned for him to come over. "Climb up and hold on tight. I'm not going after you if you fall."

Andrew looked like he had a vague idea of what she was planning and didn't appear to like it one but, however when weighed against the idea of walking through a strange, monster-filled, forest at night alone; the kid appeared to come to a quick decision.

Tentatively he crossed the small distance between them and wrapped his arms around her neck as Renamon took old of his thighs in either hand to hold him in place.

"Ready?" she asked.

"No."

"Close enough," she responded, and with one thrust of her powerful legs sent them sailing up through the trees. All it took was one more jump off of a thick branch to break them free of the canopy and send them sailing through open air. Andrew, who had cried out during the first jump had fallen silent, but the grip around her neck tightened. While it wasn't hurting her it was still annoying.

_Just as long as he doesn't pull on my fur, _she thought. _The second he does that, I'm dropping him._

**__ O O O**

Andrew had shut his eyes as tightly as he could manage; any harder and he risked ripping the lids open. Keeping his eyes locked tight as Renamon leapt from treetop to treetop was almost as bad as keeping them closed on a rollercoaster; there was no way to see what was ahead and no way to anticipate the sudden rises and falls. He would feel them shoot upwards into the sky where it seemed like they would hang motionless before dropping back down again.

Finally, he dared to crack open his eyes, if for no other reason, then so he could at least prepare himself for the sudden ups and downs that were playing havoc on his stomach.

The boy opened his eyes as they hung in midair and what he saw around them was breathtaking. The trees spread out around them in a vast, dense forest that seemed to stretch on forever. To the North stood mountains so far off in the distance they appeared to be little more than dots silhouetted by the night sky. And to the West he thought he could just make what was either an ocean or at the very least a very large lake.

He had never in his life been up this high before or seen the world stretched out so far beyond him. He had spent his entire life in the city and had grown so used to being towered over by things bigger than him: buildings, busses, streetlights, grown-ups. Now, however, he was the one who was the giant and it was the rest of the world beneath him. The sudden pure, childlike joy that filed his heart was beyond measure and for the first time that day he no longer felt afraid.

It was then that Andrew knew that he could not possibly be in his own world; it was never this beautiful.

**O O O**

Renamon, who had been focused solely on moving from one safe landing to the next, suddenly heard a strange sound from behind her; it was Andrew. He was laughing. The sound was so innocent and sweet that she couldn't help but to smile a little herself, and since the boy couldn't see that from behind her, she supposed it was okay. The death grip around her neck even loosened a little, not as much as she would have liked, but enough so she at least wasn't being half choked anymore.

"Having fun?" she called back to him.

"It's amazing up here! I've never seen anything like it!"

"If you liked that, then check this out."

Renamon braced herself as they landed on the trunk of another tree and then pushed off as hard as she could manage. The result sent the two of them flying further upwards both father and faster than ever before. Andrew cried out with both fear and joy in the same breath.

Up ahead was a thicket of trees that, to the naked eye, looked no different than the dozens of others surrounding it, but she recognized it instantly as home.

"Hold on," she warned. "We're landing."

This time as they began to fall through the brush, she didn't try to catch onto a branch to propel them back upwards. Instead they slipped seamlessly through the top layer of leaves down through a narrow opening in the foliage where there came a dull, woody-sounding thump... and the ride was over.

"We're here," she said to him as she kneeled down again. "So, you know, get off me."

Andrew opened his eyes again and slid off of her back onto a wooden floor to take his first look around her home. The walls and floor were made of wooden planks with a roof made out of the thick layer of leaves and branches of the tree that grew around them. As for the decorations, those was practically bare. There was a hammock that stretched from one wall to the next made out of interwoven vines, and on the other side of the cozy room stood a tall tree stump in the middle of two smaller ones which served as a kind of make-shift table and chairs.

"This is where you live?" he asked after drinking in the sights. "It's... quaint."

"Careful, rookie," she said "or I'll put you right back on the forest floor for the rest of the night."

Andrew chuckled. "Sorry. No offence. So, um, where do I sleep exactly?"

Renamon motioned to the hammock with her head.

"Oh. I couldn't take your bed from you," Andrew protested. "It wouldn't feel right."

Renamon found she was actually a little touched by the gesture, even if it was probably an empty one. All the same she had made her decision. Besides, it wasn't like she wasn't used to sleeping in trees before. The human boy, she guessed, was probably less so. Better that he stay in here where the risk of him falling and breaking his fool neck was much lesser.

"Well you better get used to it quick," she dismissed, "because that's where you're staying tonight. Now try and get some rest and be up early. It's going to be a long day."

With that said she jumped up into the trees.

**O O O**

Andrew saw her pause on a branch for just a second and then was gone from sight amidst a rustle of branches and leaves.

The boy stood there for a good period of time, just looking into the tree tops, but could not for the life of him see the woman now.

Giving up he dragged himself up and into the hammock and lied down. It was as he settled in, gently rocking back and forth that his situation truly hit him: he was far from home, on a completely different world. He had only seen two of these Digimon so far, but he knew that there must be many more, but which of the two extremes were they more like: the one that tried to kill him or the one that saved him? And were all of them so… intense? Andrew didn't think he was ever going to fall to sleep that night.

Less than ten minutes later Renamon could hear his soft snores coming from the branch she was resting upon just above his line of sight. She hadn't gone as far away as the boy thought.

**To be continued.**


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Renamon awoke at first morning's light, as was her custom. The first thing she did was listen for the boy, making sure he was still within her small home. She wasn't too worried since he lacked the physical prowess to leap the walls and land on the forest floor without breaking every bone in his body, nor was there much of a threat of anything coming in during the night to take him away. Many of the Digimon living within the woods were aware of Renamon and knew to stay well away. Even if someone had been so brave or stupid to actually attempt some kind of attack on either her or the boy, her acute hearing would have awaken her. Still it was good to confirm he was still there, hearing his soft snores radiating from within her den.

She felt as well as heard her own stomach growling. She hadn't eaten since yesterday morning and had no way of guessing how long it had been since the kid took a meal, too, she supposed. Renamon knew were most of the edible nuts, berries, and fruit grew and it wouldn't take her more than ten or fifteen minutes to get there, gather the food, and return. Besides, the kid had a big day yesterday and was in for another one today, he probably earned a little extra sleep, if for no other reason than to make sure he wouldn't be dragging her down all day.

Being as quiet and careful as she could manage, Renamon slipped back into her den and removed a satchel bag from where it hung off the way. She had made it herself from woven leather much in the same way she made the hammock Andrew was currently sleeping on. The bag was wide and deep allowing her to gather several days worth of food in one trip and sported a long strap that she could wrap from one side of her neck and across her chest to hold it in place. She had planned on gathering food yesterday so breakfast would be waiting from the moment she rose, but plans those had changed after the human's interruption. It seemed that a lot of her plans were going to be uprooted, and if she wanted to get rid of the child as soon as possible, she better learn how to change with them as needed.

With a quick glance over at the boy to make sure he was still fast asleep, Renamon slipped out into the trees again, reminding herself that the kid would be fine just as long as he didn't do anything stupid while she was gone…

Renamon quickly decided to just grab one day's amount of food. It would be faster.

**O O O **

His sleep was thankfully deep and dreamless. Not long after he had crawled into Renamon's 'bed' did the mixture of gentle swaying and pure exhaustion put him under and kept him there the entire night through. He most likely would have continued on sleeping, dead to the entire world if he hadn't felt a soft poking in his side. He mumbled something incoherent and brushed away at whatever was prodding him. In response came another poke in the side harder than the ones before accompanied by a voice telling him to get up, already. Andrew once again said something completely incoherent (although in a louder tone) and attempted to roll over on his side, completely forgetting that he had traded in his soft, stable bed for one that hung several feet off the floor and was prone to tipping; which was exactly what happened as he tried to move away and fall back asleep.

The hammock shifted to one side; a movement that caused Andrew to snap awake in a hurry, but not in time to keep him from tumbling out of the hammock and onto the hard wooden floor. Andrew sat up, rubbing his back, which had taken the full impact of the fall. It didn't hurt all that bad, but that was no way to start the morning.

"Hi there!" he heard a voice say from just in front of him. It was a girl's voice, but defiantly not Renamon's. This one was far too chipper, too friendly to hers.

Andrew opened his eyes for the first time since his sudden decent and saw the owner of the voice: a bird. She was the smallest Digimon he had seen thus far, but bigger than any bird he had ever known. Her feathers were pink with dark blue spots on the ends of her tail, and there was a pink and blue stripped bit that poked upward from her head hand curled once around it's self at the top.

"I'm Biyomon," she exclaimed with a bight smile. Andrew had no idea birds even _could _smile. "Who are you?"

"A-Andrew," he answered, vaguely wondering if this was still a dream.

He was still sitting on the floor, his back pressed against the wall. This Biyomon sure didn't look dangerous, but in a world where birds talked, wasps ate human flesh, and foxes could jump high above the earth, he wasn't about to take any chances.

"Andrewmon, huh? I've never seen you here before. Are you new?"

"I'm not a-" Andrew started to object before Biyomon cut him off.

"Do you know where you are?" she asked without giving any sort of pause to let him answer. "Renamon's gonna be _awfully_ mad if she finds you in her home."

"Wait, you know Renamon?"

"Sure I do! Everyone around here knows about her. She picks fights with everyone and she _always_ wins. I'd turn tail before she gets back if I were you," the bird warned, her cheerful tone never breaking.

"It's okay, she knows I'm here. She told me to stay." Deciding that Biyomon wasn't going to be a threat after all, he pushed himself up from the ground and onto his feet as he spoke. His back gave one small throb of protest and then fell quiet.

"Oh?" Biyomon asked, suddenly looking deeply interested. "Why's that?"

"Well, it's because I'm her, uh, Tamer, I guess…"

Her eyes suddenly lit up just like a child's upon first seeing their Christmas presents.

"A Tamer? Really? Renamon has a Tamer? Oh, this is just _too_ good!" she squealed in delight, hopping towards him on her short legs.

A third voice now cut through the air above them; this one hard and cold and instantly recognizable.

"Hey!" Renamon cried out. "Get out of here! Shoo!"

She pulled something out of the bag at her side and threw it. Andrew saw a nut bounce off of Biyomon's head and roll on the floor. Biyomon immediately took flight off onto the trees, but before leaving she stopped on one of the upper branches and tossed a wink down their way.

"Bye-bye, Andrewmon. Thanks for the juicy gossip." She then flew off into the air as Renamon threw another nut at the bird. As she flapped off Andrew could hear her call out: "Renamon has a Tamer! Hey! Everyone! Renamon has a _Tamer_!"

Andrew looked over to Renamon as she landed back into her den, looking like she suddenly had a bad headache. The boy wasn't exactly sure what just happened, but it looked like he'd annoyed her. Again.

"I just did something wrong, didn't I?" He asked.

Renamon didn't answer directly. Instead she turned the bag upside-down and emptied its contents all over the table. Sitting down on one of the chair-stumps she snatched up a piece of fruit that, to Andrew, looked like a blue, fuzzy pear and took a large bite.

"Just eat your damn breakfast," she growled, not looking at him. "I'm taking you to see the Digital Elder. Hopefully he can get you out of my fur."

Taking the opposite seat Andrew reached out and took a similar piece of fruit to what Renamon was munching on. He wasn't too sure about what the thing he was about to eat was, but at the same time he didn't want to do anything else to offend the girl, so he closed his eyes and bit the bullet by biting into the fruit.

The taste was sweet and a little tangy. He tried to associate it with some other food he had eaten in his life, but found that he couldn't. An orange was as close as he could come, but this fruit lacked that citrusy taste. The first bite awakened his hunger (it had been almost a full day since he had last eaten), and Andrew happily drove into the rest of his meal.

"So, this Elder," Andrew asked after a significant amount of silence had passed. Enough time, he hoped, for Renamon to calm down a little. Or at least enough where she wouldn't be so callous with him. "Who is that exactly?"

"That's the thing, not many know," she replied in between bites, not bothering to look up from her own meal. "First of all his dwelling is on a lone island far off from the mainland, and not many dare to make the trip. Second of all, only someone with a clear and pure purpose can even get in to see the Elder, whatever that means. Also, all those who _have _seen the Elder report completely different descriptions on his appearance. Some believe that it's a Digimon with the power to morph his appearance at will. Personally, I think the 'Elder' is actually a whole group of Digimon each taking a turn talking with whoever manages to get into the sanctuary as a way to keep us guessing, you know?"

"But... what purpose does that serve?" Andrew asked, having forgotten about his food for the time being as he listened to her story.

Renamon waved off his question. "Dunno. Don't care. Just a guess, anyway. What I do know is that he-or they-have been around since the beginning of this world. Everything that ever was, is, or will be is known by the Elder, they say. So if anyone can tell us what's going on here, that's where we'll need to go,

"Now," Renamon said as she stood up, "if you're ready; it's a long trip ahead of us and I'd like to get moving."

Several minutes later they were back soaring through the air just like the night before. This time, however, in the full daylight Andrew had a much better view of the world around them which as just as stunningly beautiful as it was during the previous evening. As they headed West Andrew discovered that it indeed was an ocean he saw earlier and in less than thirty minutes they were landing upon its beach.

Andrew slid off of Renamon's back, nearly lost his footing as the sand shifted under his weight, and just managed to balance before he fell over on his butt.

The pure, undisturbed beauty of this world rose to astounded him yet again. The sand around his feet was pure white with bits of small shells scattered around. The ocean's water a deeper, clearer blue than he had ever seen. Andrew realized that he was looking at a pure body of water that had never known a drop of pollution or toxic runoff.

_This is what my world must have looked like before we got there, _Andrew thought. _It's beautiful. _

As Andrew marveled at the sights around him, Renamon (who had seen it all before and knew nothing to the contrary) was busy deconstructing a pile of rocks. Hidden beneath them was a conch shell whose shape resembled that on a horn. She crossed over to the water's edge as she cleaned some bits of sand off the shell.

"What's that for?" Andrew asked, sparing a glance from the ocean.

"Calling our ride."

Taking a deep breath, Renamon placed her lips around the conch and blew. The sound that resulted was a long, low, and extremely tuneless note that traveled for miles across the still sea air. It was so bad that Andrew had to actually cover his ears and even when the sound ended he could still hear his ears ringing.

"Okay, so now what?"

"We wait," she said as she crossed back to the pile of rocks, put the shell inside, and re-stacked the pile.

Andrew wasn't sure just how much time had passed when the surface of the water began to ripple and a dark shape rose from its depths. Surprised, the boy took a few steps backward, but Renamon just stood where she was, arms crossed, waiting. The creature that at last pulled itself up from the blue depths and towards the beach looked to him like a giant blue whale.

"Renamon," it said in a voice so deep and low that Andrew could feel it vibrate his insides. "I should have known. Only you could produce such a flat, toneless sound." That seemed to be a joke.

"Good to see you too, Whamon," she said as she crossed over to him. "Remember that favor you owe me? Well, I'm calling it in."

"A pleasure. What is it that you need?"

"A ride," she answered. "I want you to take me and the rookie here over to the Elder Sanctuary."

The creature, Whamon, turned one massive eye in Andrew's direction to study him. "Really? If that's your wish, then it shall be done. Climb in."

Whamon's massive mouth opened up wide enough to drive a truck though. Without even a moment of hesitation Renamon walked into the mouth and took a seat on one of Whamon's huge, flat teeth, laying her tail across her lap as she did so.

"Come on, rookie," she called to him. "We're burning daylight."

Andrew shook his head and put his hands palm out before him. "Nuh-uh. No way. I am not walking into someone's mouth. Couldn't we just, you know, ride on his back?"

"This is faster," she said. "Now get in or else you can swim there."

"Not a chance," he responded.

Renamon shrugged. "Okay. Whamon, let's go. The rookie's going to swim for it."

As Whamon began to work his way back into the water, Andrew decided not to call Renamon's bluff and ran down the beach and into the mouth, desperately trying not to think about what he was doing.

"This is revenge for the Biyomon thing, isn't it?" he asked. Renamon only gave him a sly smile in response as the Whamon's lips closed around his teeth and the two of them were encased in darkness.

The air was thick and sour, but at least it was breathable. Every time Andrew's shoes touched the… 'floor' they squished into the whale's tongue with a sound like a wet sponge, making the boy want to gag. Outside, Andrew though he could hear the sounds of water rushing past, and whenever the dank air they were breathing would grown thin, Whamon would return to the surface to take in some fresh air (which didn't stay 'fresh' long) before diving back down.

Renamon wasn't kidding when she said that the trip was going to be a long one. Hours seemed to pass while inside that darkness. Several times Andrew tried to start up a conversation only to receive a short response or no response at all. Finally he just gave up talking altogether leaving Andrew alone in the complete darkness with only his thoughts for company.

At least Whamon broke the surface of the water for the last time. His mouth opened to reveal another sandy beach occupied by only a single tall, stone building.

"Do what you came for," Whamon said as they exited his mouth (something Andrew was deeply grateful for). "I'll be waiting for your return. Good luck."

As the whale submerged beneath the water again, Andrew and Renamon walked up the great doors of the building. He could see intricate designs carved into the doors as well as some kind of writing that he was not able to read.

Renamon crossed her arms as she studied the doors. "There's no handle," she grumbled. "Are we supposed to knock or what?"

Andrew was about to answer that he didn't know, when he felt something warm pressing against his leg from inside his pants pocket. He reached in and pulled out the digivice. Once again it had come to life with a mind of its own, making him think he could feel its power coursing from his arm throughout his entire body. Suddenly Andrew had an idea about what to do. It hit him as clearly as if he had been shown a video of it inside his own head.

Raising the digivice so it faced the large stone doors, there was a moment where the light coming off the screen doubled in intensity. In response there came a large click from behind the doors like a latch had come undone, and the great doors parted.

"How'd you know to do that?" Renamon asked, sounding impressed.

"I... don't know. I just got an idea, is all."

"Well, let's just get moving. I want to get this over with," was the fox's response.

From behind the door they encountered a great staircase that lead down into the earth. Candles burned on either side of them, lighting the way. Moving slowly and carefully the duo made their way to the bottom, taking them to a short hallway where a door stood open at the end. They gave each other a quick glance and then walk inside.

The room was almost perfectly round with the same hard stone flooring as the hall and stairs used. Andrew looked upwards, but could not see the ceiling. More candles burned around them casting a strange flickering red glow and in the very center of it all sat a hooded figure on top of an ornate looking rug. His legs were crossed around each other and his arms were bent before him in a kind of classic meditation pose.

"E-excuse me," Andrew spoke in a voice he could just barely get above a whisper. While he didn't exactly feel any fear because of the man, that didn't stop him from being intimidated. There was an enery that radiated off of him, so strong that the boy could feel it even from where he stood. "Are... are you the Digital Elder?"

The figure stood up from the center of the floor and turned to face them. His deep purple rode and hood covered every inch of him.

"Why yes," the Elder said, raising one hand to his hood. "That I am."

With a quick flip of his wrist he pulled back the hood to reveal his face; a human face. For a so-called 'elder' he looked very much like a man in their early thirties, with short brown hair, gray eyes, and a smile on his face; making him look young and handsome.

"Wait a second," Renamon protested, "You're the Digital Elder? You look like another one of him," She jerked her thumb at Andrew.

"Are... are you human? Like me?" he asked, but the man just shook his head slowly.

"I decided to take the form of something you'd recognize and feel more comfortable talking to. I figured you've been through enough already, Andrew, and earned a little break."

"You know my name?" he squeaked.

"I know a great many things about you, Andrew. And about you as well, Renamon."

"That sounds like a threat," she said, but her voice was off, like she couldn't quite muster the level of confidence she wanted to have.

"I think you know that it's not," the Elder answered in his same soft, friendly tone before looking back to Andrew. His gaze was powerful and Andrew thought he could not only feel those eyes looking at him, but through him as well; maybe as far down as his very soul.

"May I see it?" He asked the boy as he held out his hand. "Your digivice, I mean. May I?"

Andrew reached into his pocket and handed over the object. The Elder took it and held it up before his eyes. If he felt one way or another about the Digivice than Andrew couldn't read it on his face which stayed as blank and friendly as ever. After some time the man nodded with approval and gave it back.

"It had been such a long time since I've seen that little guy," he informed them "So long that I even started to worry for it's safety, but it seems my fears were unnecessary. It has found its owner."

Renamon took a step forward, but only a small one. "What? Owner? Are you kidding? Look at him, that can't be right!"

While Andrew didn't exactly like what she was implying, he couldn't help but agree. "Yeah, I mean I saw this lying in the street. If I wouldn't have picked it up than the garbage man would have. I mean, I just stumbled upon this thing by accident."

"Did you?" the man asked with one raised eyebrow. "Did you find it or did it find you?"

Andrew gave a confused shake of his head. "That...that doesn't make any sense."

"You listen to me," Renamon piped in. Clearly this conversation was not going the way she had planned. "That little thing said that I was the kid's Partner. That can't be right, I am not now nor will I ever be, anyone's partner."

"Renamon? Why do you insist so greatly on acting like a fool?" the Elder asked with a friendly laugh.

Renamon opened her mouth to argue, but looked like she couldn't think of a single thing to say and even if she had managed to stumble upon some kind of rebuttal, it probably wouldn't have mattered. The kind, smiling face of the man soon changed into a deeply serious one whose gravity poked at the hearts of both of them, sealing off whatever kind of denials they might still wish to press.

"Renamon. Andrew. What I must tell you is a mater most grim, indeed. However, before we discuss such serious matters allow me to begin with a little backstory. From the day you both were born your fates were intertwined. Both of you possess a level of strength rarely known for your kinds." He turned his head towards the fox. "Renamon; you should know very well about the power within you. What you know now it only a portion of what you can do, but it is not a level you can reach alone. It is only when you truly care that you will understand."

"What are you talking about?" she snorted. "I do care! It's _all _I've cared about."

The Elder did not answer this, but only sighed as though he were talking to a very young and stupid child.

"What about me?" Andrew asked. "I think you've got the wrong guy. There's nothing special or strong about me."

Turning his gaze, the robed man flashed Andrew a kind smile that flashed his impossibly white teeth. "That is where you are wrong, child. You see, in the past the Digi-Destined have always been a group; several children who combined strength has time and time again pulled our world from the brink of destruction. Some sooner than others. You, however, are something quite unique: The Lone Destined. I have seen long ago that a day will come where a single child will enter our world without allies at his side, and his arrival would signal the beginning of the final judgment."

"Final... judgment?" he repeated, not liking the sound of those words in the least.

The elder nodded. "You see, for a very long time this world had fought for it's survival from those who would want it dead or recreated in its image," he explained. "These evils have been fought off before, but have always returned stronger than ever. It was only a matter of time before a final battle would decide the fate of our world, and yours, for all time. However, that is a battle that is not yours to fight, but that does not mean _your_ task is any less important. An old evil has risen again, attempting to retake our realm. I do not yet know who, for he does not want to be seen and is blocking me from him. The fact he is able to do this, troubles me deeply."

Renamon shook with anger. "If you knew this was coming then why didn't you do anything about it?" she challenged the man, taking a step towards him.

"I have. That is why you are both here. I knew that this evil would manifest before I would be able to sense it, so long ago I sent that digivice that you now hold, Andrew, into your world where it lay in waiting for the right time and person to see it and make it their own. This was your destiny, both of yours."

"If this is all destiny," Andrew tired to puzzle out, speaking up before Renamon could start fighting with the Elder again, "then everything already been decided, right? You know how it will all end."

"The future isn't so cut-and-dry," he replied with a somber voice. "That's the problem with seeing into tomorrow: it always changes. I see the Digital World grown and prospering as a land of peace and tranquility. I also see it and every living creature upon it dying in flames. Can you understand? Even though the final battle will be fought by another group, The Final Destined, it will be the outcome of your journey that will tip the scales in order of good or evil. What you do here would win or lose the war that will come. Take that to heart, both of you."

"A-alright," said the boy. "Then where do we find this creature?"

Renamon looked over at Andrew as if he had lost his mind. She found it impossible to believe that the same kid who freaked out about getting inside the mouth of a Whamon was now ready to drive headfirst into the greatest threat to this world. The Elder, however, just smiled.

"When it is time to find him, you shall. Before that you must find and destroy the generals to his army. It is only after all of your opponents pieces have been cleared from the board that you may safely take the king. The dark one may not yet know of your presence. If he truly believes that he has stopped the Destined from arriving, than his first task will be to eliminate any threats from within this world. Now you must take your leave. Remember what I have said to the both of you. You must not fail or falter. The fate of both worlds lay in your hands. No pressure."

"Wait!" Andrew called. "I still have so many questions."

"Than I hope you find your answers," the man smiled. "Farewell."

There was a sudden bright like the glowed all around them, one that reminded Andrew of when he first fell into this world. When the light faded away and he could see again, Renamon and Andrew found themselves back outside the stone doors which were now locked shut. They looked into each other's eyes, both trying to size up the other. Both trying to think of what to say.

"That was... heavy." Andrew finally said.

"Yeah, no kidding," she barked with a humorless laugh.

"What do you think he meant by 'eliminating threats from within this world.'"

"I think he means to stop any resistance against him," she shrugged, "but that could come from anywhere unless he specifically means to-" The words died in her throat as a look of dull terror spread across her face. "Oh no. Oh please, no."

"What? Renamon, what is it?"

"The Daycare," she groaned. "He's going to destroy the Daycare."

Renamon bolted for the shoreline, leaving Andrew in the dust, screaming for Whamon to get them. Andrew didn't know what the Daycare was, but it seemed to hold some deep importance for Renamon. Whatever it was, it seemed it would soon be in grave danger. If it wasn't already.

**To be continued.**


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

The hardest part was the waiting. With every second that ticked away (and each seemed to stretch out longer than the one before) her fear and anticipation grew. Her imagination conjured up dark, horrible images that she had not been aware she was capable of thinking.

Long ago, Renamon had adopted the mindset that she was always correct, and if for some reason she _wasn't_ right, than everyone else was at least wrong. Now she found herself desperately wishing for the first time in her life that _she_ was the one to be proven wrong, that she would step back into her childhood town and discover that all of her fears and worries were for not, that she had made some kind of mistake and everything would be alright. But as badly as she wanted to believe it, she found she simply could not.

The town in which she grew and trained held no formal name. Most often it was referred to as 'The Daycare' because that was more or less exactly what it was. There were the housing for the students (mostly In-Training Digimon, but there always were a few Rookies who'd yet to learn all the skills they needed to officially 'graduate'), the classrooms were various fighting techniques were taught along with other practical things such as what plants and fruits were edible or how to build a sturdy dwelling (which was where Renamon learned how to construct the tree house like home she resided in), then there were the restrooms, mess hall, and similar structures.

From the outside, The Daycare might sound like a perfectly innocent settlement of no real value to someone who's dreams included that of world domination and genocide, but in truth some of the Digital World's greatest fighters had either been born within it's walls or ventured to them in order to train from the masters that resided there. Destroying this settlement would be the best way of shutting down the pipeline which created organized, proficient warriors that may stand as a threat to this Dark Lord's reign of power. Without these training grounds, Renamon imaged that any sort of future attempts of rebellion would be poor at best. As the saying went: 'get them while they're young'.

The kid had been smart enough to at least try and keep pace with her as Renamon raced down toward the beach, shouting for Whamon. He was obviously much slower than she was, but she at least didn't have to wait long for him to catch up nor did she have to coax him back inside the mouth. He seemed to understand just how-What was the word the kid had used?-'heavy' the situation was.

Once inside she told Whamon to head back to shore as fast as he possibly could go. Whamon didn't waste any time asking why or what was wrong, he simply closed his mouth around he teeth once more and swam across the ocean once more. It was a rare trait to find someone who truly understood when it was time to ask question and when it was time to just act, that was one of the reasons she liked Whamon. He knew when to just shut up. Even the kid, at least for the time being, seemed to understand that this was not a time for conversation. Ever since leaving the tower he had remained completely quiet; not trying to reassure her everything would be okay or bombard her with numerous questions. He simply sat and waiting like a trained pet. Had Renamon not been so preoccupied worrying about what was going to lie ahead, she might have enjoyed the rare silence.

**O O O**

Andrew's silence wasn't just out of respect for Renamon, although that was at least some part of it, there was also plenty on his mind as well. Up until now he had been on the same trail of logic as Renamon: his appearance here must have been nothing more than an accident; some kind of random fluke. He just assumed that after seeing this Elder guy that he would be sent right back home, a little dirty and scared, but none too worse for the ware. Though Andrew imagined he'd need to spent a lot of time reassuring himself that none of this had been real for the sake of his own sanity.

Yet rather than this outcome that he had been sort of hoping for, the boy was instead informed that he had appeared in this world for a reason. Of all the impossible sounding things, he was supposed to save it.

The idea alone was enough to laugh at. What was it that he was supposed to do, anyway? He was a kid; a stupid little kid who fought with his mom on a daily basis, had few friends, a B-average in school, and got beat-up from time to time. Hell he still loved Saturday morning cartoons and complained when he had to take the garbage to the curb. The most important thing someone like him should have been in charge of was a goldfish.

Now, out of nowhere, he was expected to somehow pull an entire planet from the edge of Armageddon? Andrew wanted to find the idiot who thought that was a good idea and throttle him.

What was worse was that in his stunned state he (as well as Renamon) had completely forgotten to ask just how he was supposed to get home after this was all over; the entire reason they made the trip in the first place. Suppose there was no way back, that this world was now his world for the rest of his life.

A cold shiver ran up his spine at the idea as the boy sat there in the darkness, listening as the water ran around him and breathing in the stale, sour air. He could not remember the last time he felt so completely and utterly alone.

**O O O**

Up until they point where they finally pulled up onto dry land, Renamon had been toying around with the idea of just leaving the kid behind with Whamon while she headed out towards The Daycare herself. Surely she he have move must faster on her own, and time was defiantly not on their side, every moment that she could gain would could be vital.

Yet, she knew that she couldn't leave the kid. Renamon had been put in charge of the rookie and it was a challenge she stubbornly refused to half-ass. Yes, she could move faster on her own. and yes; the kid looked about as useful in a fight as a small coil of string, but her decision had been made and she was going to live up to it despite the inconvenience it brought.

Once they were back on the shore, Renamon dropped to one knee and motioned for Andrew to repeat the familiar process of him riding piggy-back as Renamon carried them across the plains.

Quickly and quietly, the child climbed aboard and as soon as she felt his hands lock around her neck, Renamon began to run, pushing herself as fast and as far as she dared to go while balancing Andrew's added weight. She felt like she was learning to compensate for the added load and was making better time than she had been, but she still felt far too slow. She would not deny that the urge to just drop the human off and go it alone still hung in the back of her mind.

Hours had passed in silence before they saw the smoke rising up into the air off in the distance. Whatever thin hope Renamon might have still been holding onto that she had been wrong vanished. They were still far off from their destination, but staying above the trees allowed them to see for miles making the thick cloud of black smoke was impossible to miss.

"No," Renamon whispered and quickened her pace to such a speed that Andrew had to dig his fingers into her mane to keep from slipping.

Both Andrew and Renamon had been trying to prepare themselves for what they might come across once they had entered the settlement, but nether had been able understand just how extreme the destruction would be until they had landed behind its walls.

Everything; the buildings, the trees, even the large garden around the back of the complex that provided much of the Daycare's food was burning, and anything that wasn't had already in pieces, was in the process of falling apart.

"It's horrible," Andrew said in a horse tone.

"No," Renamon repeated. "Oh no, no, no…" This place had been her home. Despite everything that she disliked about it this land was still her home once. It was filled with the memories of the life she once lived and now... now it was gone.

The strength went out of her legs and she fell onto her knees; her hands hanging loosely at her sides and her face a horrible combination of anger and hopelessness. She was too late; far, far too late. There was so little left to save, and among the fires and wreckages, Renamon could not see one trace of the school's former students and masters.

A sound shattered her silent misery and Andrew's stunned silence; a howl of agony coming from somewhere further in the camp.

Renamon's ears perked up at the noise. At first she thought that her mind must be playing tricks, that she could not have heard the voice she thought she just had, but the look on the boy's face said he had heard it too. In a flash she was up again on her feet and racing toward the location of the noise with the boy lagging far behind, struggling to keep up.

She turned a corner around the charred remains of the mess hall and came into a large open area that had once severed as a sparring ground, which was actually little more than red circle painted into the ground to make an arena where the students could show off what they had learned as well as practice and entertain themselves. It wasn't unusual to seem more than half the camp gathered around the painted circle to watch two Digimon square off in practical combat.

Today there was only one figure lying in the middle of that ring; a man Renamon had known just from the sound of his voice.

"Master Agumon," she breathed.

Andrew caught up to Renamon just as she kneeled down next to the old Digimon. With a touch as gentle as if she was holding a newborn, Renamon lifted up his head and place it into her lap.

"Master," she said, trying to rouse him from his unconsciousness. "Master, what happened here?"

"The first step of many," spoke a cold, robotic voice from somewhere above them. Both Renamon and Andrew looked up to the top of the surrounding fence where the speaker stood.

Every Digimon that Andrew had met up until this point (at least those in their real forms) were that of animal-Sometimes greatly twisted versions from the ones that he knew- but at least recognizable. This creature, however, was something new. What they was looking at now appeared to be robotic. There were metal arms, metal legs, even a glass dome over its head that seemed to house some kind of living organic brain.

"I am Datamon," it announced, somehow able to sound smug even through its monotone drawl, "loyal servant to our Dark Lord. I have been ordered to see over the destruction of this settlement and the extermination of its inhabitants. This phase has been completed, now the second phase may begin: the eradication of the boy." Datamon's cold eyes feel over Andrew as he spoke. "Yes, human, he knows of your existence. He knows and sees all that goes on within his domain. Do not fear, child. Your death will be quick and efficient."

That was when the creature produced a rectangular box with an antenna sticking out from behind its back and seemed to aim it at them.

Renamon heard her name being called weakly from her arms. She looked down to see Master Agumon's eyes had opened, but only just barely. His voice was small and it seemed to hurt when he spoke.

"Master, please. Don't speak-"

"R-run," he grunted, despite her advice. "T-trap."

Datamon pressed the button on his controller.

Andrew, who had never seen Agumon before and Renamon, who was deeply distraught, didn't notice the black ring tightly wrapped around the Digimon's throat, almost digging into the flesh. A red light then lit up from within the collar and Agumon's body began to convulse. He screamed; a horrible sound that was filled with agony.

"No more!" he cried as he fell from Renamon's grip. "Not again!"

Light began to emerge from all around Agumon's body, forcing Renamon to retreat backwards. When the light faded away, the kind old Digimon had gone and standing in his place was a creature that would have made Andrew think of a museum dinosaur that had come to live and gone mad: SkullGreymon.

**O O O**

Datamon, having run the calculations and seeing that the chances for survival were less than a percent, was satisfied with the outcome. His experiments with the Dark Ring technology had gone better than hoped. Not only was he able to turn any creature unlucky enough to be caught in one into a mindless, obedient creature, but he was also able to force the digi-evolution process at will, as was done to the old fool. In his old form he was useless and frail, but now he was turned into a weapon of great destruction.

Pleased with his progress, Datamon took his leave of the area. He must report his findings to his lord, and after that there was still so much work to be done before this world was perfectly molded to his master's rule.

**O O O**

"Master," Renamon said to the creature that had once been her teacher and the closest thing she had ever known as a friend. "What have they done to you?"

His answer was a mighty roar that seemed to shake the earth. Perhaps a bit of an exaggeration, but that was the way if felt to her. He then lifted up one of his massive bone feet and brought it down hard. Renamon just barley managed to roll away before the impact smashed a crater into the ground where she was just standing. She was just getting to her feet when SkullGreymon attacked again, this time with a swipe of his claws. Again, Renamon just managed to escape. As she hit the ground, she noticed Andrew still standing where he was, looking up at the creature; mesmerized by its impossible height and appearance. If he kept standing where he was, the kid was bound to be squashed either accident or directly. Either way it was bound to happen.

She shouted at him, but he didn't move. She tried again, louder this time, but still he didn't budge. Fed up, Renamon picked a stone up from the dirt and threw it at him, hard. The rock bounced off his shoulder, but at least she had his focus now, but probably not for too long.

"Get to cover!" she called. "Hide!"

"B-but-"

"Do it! _Now_!"

Andrew risked one more glance up at the skinless dinosaur, and for a moment Renamon was afraid he was going to completely freeze again after all, but then he turned and ran, ducking into the remains of what was once a classroom, she thought. The boy was still too close to the action for her liking, but at least he was hiding. She was going to have draw SkullGreymon away before she-

Before she what? SkullGreymon was an Ultimate. Even if she wasn't completely out matched in size and strength, this was still her old master. He had gone feral, but this was still the same Digimon she had known her entire young life. Could she really fight him?

"Master, please listen to me," she begged as another claws swiped in front of her face, missed her by inches, "you have to snap out of this!"

If he heard her, he made no sign. The only reaction she got was another roar and another attack.

"Please don't do this, Master," Renamon pressed, retreating a step with every word. "Don't make me fight you. Please stop! Please!"

She was begging now, trying desperately to reach whatever sanity might be left inside of him, to whatever piece of Agumon there might be left, but her words were either block or... or he was really gone. And if that was true then she really would have to fight him. Running never even crossed her mind. Even if she had the mindset to escape from a fight she was losing, that wouldn't change that SkullGreymon would still be loose on the world, blindly attacking and destroying everything he came across. She had to end this or die in the process. Her master would never want to be left to this fate.

"Forgive me," Renamon whispered before going on the offensive.

**O O O**

Andrew watched the show from his hiding spot within the burnt out remains of a building as Renamon's pleas feel on deaf ears. She seemed to understand that she would not be able to reason with this creature began to launch her won assault. Andrew saw attacks that had easily cut down his attacker the day before were now harmlessly bouncing off the monster's skeletal body.

He felt completely helpless sitting there, peeking out, watching as Renamon desperately tried to stay one step ahead of the swiping claws, swinging tail, and chomping teeth that came at her from all sides. He wanted to help, had to help, but what could he do? He sure couldn't fight the thing himself unless it had a weakness to small rocks and sticks being thrown at it.

_How could a small creature like that, turn into something like this big, _the boy thought. _If this is what digivolving is, it scares the hell out of me. He's completely different._

Only... Andrew realized that he _wasn't _completely different, not really. There was something… something that was the still the same. Andrew looked at the monster, really studied him ,trying to figure out why he thought that.

This thing was five times bigger than the tiny Digimon had been, much more vicious, and seemed to be made only of bones.

_Nothing's the same,_ he thought again. _The only thing is that weird little ring._

The realization hit him with all the force of a hurricane. Agumon had a black choker around his neck, a piece of jewelry that stuck Andrew as being completely out of place on the small Digimon, but such simple thoughts were quickly pushed away in the middle of that earlier panic. Everything else about Agumon had morphed, everything except for that choker. It hung loosely around its neck bone and right before the transformation it had glowed, he was sure of that. The light was hard to see in the afternoon sun and if Renamon hadn't been leaping over her old master, her shadow cast over his face, Andrew might have missed it all together. It was a gamble, what he was thinkign; he knew that, but maybe if they were very lucky...

"Renamon," the boy called out as he raced from his cover.

"What the hell are you doing?" she shot back, sparing him only the quickest of glances. "I told you to leave!"

Andrew ignored her and kept going, trying to make sure she would hear everything he said. If she misheard him in any way than it could get them both killed. Of course, if he was wrong about the ring in the first place than the exact same result would occur, but it was far too late to turn back now.

"The ring!" he shouted, "the black ring around its neck! Destroy it!"

At first she appeared as if she no idea what he was talking about. She had been too busy trying to keep herself alive to pay attention to such things, but now that she really looked she could see the collar dangling off of the thing's neck.

SkullGreymon swung his hand downwards in an attempt to squash Renamon as if she was a bug. Renamon dodged again, but not quite as far as last time. Now she leaped up onto the back of his hand and as he pulled his harm upward in an attempt to fling her off, Renamon used the speed and the height to push herself upwards into the sky until she was even with SkullGreymon's neck. When she felt the timing was perfect, she released another Diamond Storm. Several shards missed the thin target completely, others bounced off harmlessly off his bones like before, but her aim was still good and a few did strike the ring, shattering into three pieces.

She had to roll once when she hit the ground to keep her legs from breaking from the fall, but once she had her balance again she was able to see if the kid's idea had been any good. He was roaring again as he had been, but now the tone was different. SkullGreymon sounded as if he was being hurt and the way his hands were now tightly wrapped around his head mimicked that of someone who suddenly got a massive migraine.

He began to change again within a ball of blinding white light, becoming smaller and thicker, the flesh growing back over his bone. When the glow faded Agumon had returned.

He swayed on his feet and would have fallen over completely if Renamon hadn't caught him and gently brought him rest in her lap as she had done when they first found him.

"Master, are you alright?" she asked.

"T-thank you, Renamon." The old Digimon's voice was haggard and weak and his breathing was coming in uneven, shallow waves. "I... lost control. I was aware, but couldn't stop myself. I could not stop."

"It's okay now, Master. You're okay. You're going to rest and everything will be okay."

Agumon managed a small smile. "Don't lie. This is the end for me, and I welcome it. After what I have done to those I swore to protect, I welcome this."

"But it's not your fault, Master! It wasn't you!" Renamon pleaded, digging her fingers into his body.

"It was," Agumon croaked with barely contained despair. "Under someone else's control or not, it was still my hand that caused all this destruction. This is justice for my actions. Besides, I'm an old man now. I've lived a good, long life and seen so much. I'm ready. Please understand."

Renamon shook her head. "I don't want you to go."

"You'll be okay. You'll have him." Agumon motioned over to the boy with a shaking hand. "What's your name, human?"

"Andrew, sir," he answered, taking a tentative step closer.

"Andrew," Agumon repeated as if trying it on. "Andrew, be patient with this one. She's as stubborn as they come, but her heart is in the right place, understand?"

"Yes, sir." Andrew had never even met this creature before today and yet he felt like mourning him all the same. Still, whatever he felt, he couldn't even imagine how hard this was for Renamon.

"Master," she chimed in again, desperation crawling into her eyes. "Hold on. You have to, alright?"

"Renamon," the small creature sighed with a kind smile, "there's still so much you need to learn."

"Then stay around and teach me!"

"That's no longer in my power," he said with a small shake of his head that seemed to pain him slightly. "But I have confidence in you. Always have. Always will. Goodbye."

Agumon closed his eyes and a moment later there was another blinding glow. Agumon, who may or may not have once been a Partner to a Digi-Designed depending on which rumors you chose to believe, passed from the world. His body was gone as if it had never been, but his memories would always stay with the two who were there for his last few moments.

**O O O**

Several hours ago, as a Digimon and a young human boy stood side by side on a small island, attempting to figure out how to open two large, stone doors that seemed to have no handle or latch of any kind; a small pink and purple bird that the human boy would have recognized at once flew though the open window on the top floor of an ancient, decrypted castle. The fact that this building even still stood at all in its spot deeply hidden away from the light was a miracle. The walls were crumbling, some of its highest towers were leaning, and all around it there was nothing be dead grass and bare trees, but stand it did; and inside this castle with it's many dark rooms and rotting furniture stood one lone figure within the shadows. This was the shadow the strange bird spoke to once she was inside and perched neatly on top of a moldy bookcase.

"Dark Lord, Dark Lord," she had chirped. "I have just heard some very interesting news..."

**To be continued.**


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

They did everything they could to fight the remaining fires that burned within the settlement. There was a well that within the settlement that they drew water from to throw over the flames, but the process was slow going. By the time one fire was out another had spread. Out of desperation they even began to shovel dirt from the very ground beneath them as a way to battle the blaze. Both Digimon and Tamer put up a good fight, but there was nothing that could really be done. The flames had spread too far and too deep to be controlled. An organized team might have stood a chance, but it was too much for just the two them and as the afternoon's light faded all they could do is watch as the last bit of the fire burned itself out. Every piece of the village Renamon had grown up in had either turned to ash or lay in pieces. She had come too late to either save the campus or find what happened any of the students. The very least she could do was try to stop some of the damage, even if it was a fool's errand.

Never before in her life had she ever felt so helpless or as completely weak as she did that day. She couldn't save her childhood home, she couldn't save her Master. Her heart ached in a way she didn't think possible; it was a horrible feeling that seemed to darken the world around her as if storm clouds had moved in, leaving her with a sick feeling.

"Come on," she ordered the boy as she started to head North, out of the village. No need to jump the fence this time, most of it was gone.

"Where are we going?" Andrew asked, struggling to keep up with the pace she was setting.

"After Datamon; he knows where this 'Dark Lord' is, and I'm going to get that information out of him, but first I'm going to make him understand the mistake he made today," Renamon opened up one clenched fist and showed off her claws. "And for every life lost here today, that's how much of his hide I'm going to peel out of that tin can."

Fists clenched and teeth bared, the fox set out after the monster that had trashed her home. The trail of destruction Datamon left would be simple enough to follow.

**O O O**

They had walked for hours until the last tiny bit of daylight has squeezed out of the sky. Finally it just became too dark to go on and they were in danger of losing Datamon's trail. Begrudgingly they made camp for the night in a small clearing, sitting on opposite sides of a small campfire, the irony of spending the day trying to stop a wild fire only to be sitting around a controlled one not being lost on either of them. Neither of them seemed too comfortable with it, but they needed the light and heat. The days might have still been warm, but as soon as the sun went down the air chilled.

Throughout their trip, Andrew kept hoping that Renamon would eventually calm as she normally did. She was often quick to anger, but also seemed just as quick to return to a more tranquil state. This time, however, that hatred didn't seemed to wane even the smallest bit, and Andrew was growing more concerned about what she might do if these raw emotions were left unchecked.

There was something in her eyes that actually frightened him; a kind of deep hate mixed with a craving for blood. As they traveled through the woods, Andrew lagged several steps behind the fox, trying to make his presence as small and unnoticeable as possible in fear that Renamon would take her fury out on him.

Any thin hope he had been banking on Renamon calming down after they set up camp also fell through. Gone completely silent, she only glared into the fire, her mouth closed into a hard line. It seemed suicidal to even consider disturbing her, but seeing her like this; it made Andrew fear with she might do.

He took a deep breath in through his nose and slowly let it out again. Feeling like he was about to jump into a lion pit Andrew spoke up for the first time since they left the Daycare.

"He meant a lot to you, didn't he?" he ventured; a simple enough statement that he felt made as good of a starting point as any.

Renamon, who had been busy poking at the fire with a branch, turned her gaze up to him. The light from the flames reflected in her eyes in a way that made Andrew want to squirm. She seemed to study him for a few moments, as if trying to decide whether she wanted to bother answering him at all. Of course, she could also be doing something as simple as thinking of the right words to say, he guessed ,but it just didn't feel that way.

"He was... my friend. I should have been able to help him," she said after her long pause, turning her eyes back to the licking flames.

"Renamon, you did everything you could."

She snorted and closed her eyes. "Bullshit."

"Look, I know you feel hurt right now," Andrew said. "You're angry and upset, and I understand-"

Her eyes shot back up to glare into his, this time seeming to cast their own fire. When she spoke, there was an underlying growl coming from her throat making Andrew sure he should have gone with his first instinct and not said anything at all. Now he was afraid that Renamon was going to leap across their camp and slice his throat open.

"Understand?" Renamon snapped. "How could you possibly understand? He was everything to me! I should have done something! I should have been faster, or stronger, or _something_." Huffing, Renamon pulled her knees up close to her body and hugged them to her chest. "You're just a stupid kid, what could you possibly know about death?"

"I lost my father. Less than a year go," he answered in a soft tone, not aware he had spoken until the words had already left his lips.

She gave the boy an odd look; like a mixture between surprise and what Andrew thought was sympathy.

"I'm... I'm sorry," she apologized, sounding honest, as she watched him over her bent knees. "I didn't mean to… what happened?"

Andrew crossed his arms into his lap, feeling mouth drop into a sour frown. It wasn't something he liked to talk about (or even think about), but he had already brought the subject up, he might as well have his say. As much as he knew it was going to hurt having to relive that day, there was a part of him that actually wanted to talk.

"Dad did construction," Andrew began, not sure of Renamon would understand what that meant, but not really caring. "He had that job even before he met mom and was one of the senior workers; a few more years and he probably would have been promoted, maybe to something a little less dangerous. He used to get up early in the morning even before I was up for school and he would get home late in the evening. I didn't get to see him much during the week, so every weekend we'd try and do something special."

Andrew always used to look forward to the weekends. Sometimes they would go to the zoo or the amusement park. They might to see a movie, or watch a ballgame, or do something as simple as play catch in the park. Honestly, it didn't really matter what they did, he just enjoyed the time they got to spend together, but then...

"He got up and got ready for work one morning, same as he always did, and by the time I was awake he was already gone. It's... weird to think just how totally normal that day was. I'd have thought there would have been some kind of warning or sign, like the skies would open up to tell me that my dad was in trouble. I mean, he's my _dad_; nothing's supposed to happen to him. He's supposed to be invincible."

Andrew shifted uncomfortable on the ground. There was a deep seeded, cowardly part of him that desperately wanted to stop; to rebury the past back into its pit in the back of his mind and let it rot there for the rest of eternity, but he couldn't stop. The boy had brought the dead back to life and there would be no killing it again. All he could go was let it free and hope it would leave rather than consume him.

"I try to remember anything else about that day," he poured on, "what I had for lunch or what my homework was, but I just can't. All I can really picture is getting off the bus, walking in my front door, and seeing mom in the kitchen. She was sitting at the table with her face in her hands. She was crying; and on the floor by her feet was the phone.

Maybe it sounds stupid, and I guess that it does, but it was seeing the phone on the floor like that that disturbed me the most. Seeing mom cry, that was really bad; but there was just something about seeing that thing lying on the floor, lying in a place where it just didn't have any right to be, that stuck with me. It's the part I remember the most."

Without being completely conscious of it, Renamon hand begun to slowly moving closer to the boy. She had not laughed or interrupted like Andrew had been afraid of. Instead she only watched him with a sort of sorrow that said she understood all to well what he was tell her. Looking from Renamon and back to the fire, he continued;

"She told me that dad was working on some low-level office building when he lost he balance on a beam near the roof. The support strap he wore that was supposed to catch him if this ever happened snapped and he fell but… but it snapped and…"

The hand Andrew wiped across his eyes came back wet and no sooner did he dry it on his pants leg did he need to wipe his eyes again. It hurt so bad to remember. It wasn't fair; this kind of thing wasn't supposed to happen in real life.

"I saw him the night before then I went to bed and then I- I never saw him again. I never even got to say goodbye. I got home from school and he was just... gone."

Andrew felt a hand rest upon his shoulder. He looked up and saw Renamon had closed the large gap between them. She looked at him, her eyes sad and somber; seeing that expression of sorrow broke something inside of him and took with it every bit of composure and maturity that Andrew had worked so hard to obtain. He turned to her and buried his face into her mane, expecting her to push him away. Instead felt her arms wrap around his back. Under difference circumstances, the act of comfort given by the fox might have surprised him, but in that moment, Andrew was too far gone into his own grief to do much more than bury his face into her and break.

**O O O**

Renamon felt bad for the kid, she honestly did. As upset and depressed as she was about her own loss, at least she got to be with Agumon in the end, allowed to say her goodbyes. The boy hadn't been allowed that. He had learned at an early age that life was cruelly unfair at times; that you often don't get those precious last moments. No matter how deeply you love someone or how hard you work to protect them they can always be taken away. It was a hard lesson for a child to have to learn, but if nothing else she could respect how much he had taken it in stride for so long.

So she held him and tried to comfort him, and at the same time tried to draw comfort for herself as well. She felt as though they both deserved that much.

Time went by, the fire burned, and the boy's sobs came to a stop. After several more minutes passed and the boy had yet to let go, Renamon started to believe that he somehow fell asleep right there on her chest. It was just as she was getting ready to wake him up with a quick, hard shake that he sat up on his own. The boy's eyes were red and puffy, but at the same time there was a look of peace on his face.

"Better?" she asked.

"Yeah," he breathed, sounding very tired. "Thanks. You?"

"I'll be okay," Renamon answered, surprised that she did feel a little better. "Try and get some rest, huh?"

The boy nodded and scooted closer to the fire where he laid down on his side and closed his eyes. It wasn't until she was sure he was asleep that Renamon dared to do her own grieving; even then she stayed as silent as she could. The kid had already seen past the wall she had built up around herself enough, she wasn't about let him in any deeper than she just had.

She sat there for with her legs pressed up against her chest and her arms crossed over her knees for some uncountable length of time. At first she stared into the fire before her as she replayed the last few moments of her master's life over and over in her head. Even after she no longer wished to think of him the same images continued to cycle in her mind in a cruel, constant loop. Renamon wanted it all to go away. She wanted to wake up and find that everything had just been some kind of terrible dream. If only she could.

From beside her Andrew stirred in his sleep, mumbling something completely incoherent to her ears. She looked over at the boy, curled up on the forest floor and dreaming whatever humans dreamed about. If it wasn't for him than she would proably be dead by now, killed by the only person she had even come close to calling friend. He was the one who saw what she had missed; the black collar that first hung from Agumon's neck and then SkullGreymon's.

While she was grateful for his help, the fact that she had missed something so blatantly obvious disturbed her. She had never allowed her emotions to cloud her judgment so badly before. She had been Renamon; the digimon with ice water in her veins. Nothing fazed her, nothing bothered her. She was a creature able to foresee and adapt to any situation. Now look at her; sitting on the cold ground silently crying in the dark and the only reason she was still alive to do so was because of the little human boy passed out beside her.

In the moment she wanted to hate him. She wanted to blame everything that had happened to her on the child. She had been just fine until he showed up; everything in her life was proper and in its place, but now... now nothing was as it was supposed to be. Her master was dead and most likely most of her former classmates were too. Even those who might have survived the slaughter that she was helpless to prevent would be scattered to the four winds.

So badly she wished to shake him out of his sound slumber and scream at him, to tell him that he should have stayed in his own stupid world, but she couldn't. As much as she wanted to hate him, she simply could not bring herself to be so cruel. It wasn't like the boy had asked for any of this, she knew that. Still, she wanted to blame someone, anyone, just as long as it meant she didn't have to blame herself. For so long she had been the best. She stood high above the world around her on a pedestal that kept her from ever being touched.

No longer.

_So, this was how it feels to fall from grace,_ she thought as she lay down and attempted to fall asleep herself. There was going to be another long day ahead of them tomorrow and they would both need to be alert. Next time they might not be as lucky as they were today, and Renamon would not allow herself to be as sloppy as she had been. She would force herself to sleep tonight if her body refused to do so on it's own, and if anything was stupid enough to attempt and ambush the two of them as they slept, then let it. Her hearing was grand and her nose was keen, and there was nothing she would like more than to take out her frustrations on something.

Somehow Renamon managed to slip into a peaceful and thankfully dreamless slumber, and if anything did come across them as they slept it was wise enough to keep moving.

Time passed; the moon fell, the sun rose and with it Andrew's third day in the Digital World began. By the time that same sun was setting once again Andrew would nearly be dead.

**To be continued.**


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Andrew was awaken the next morning by Renamon planting her foot against the boy's shoulder, and in a less than gently shove, flipped him over onto his back the same way a cook might flip over a piece of meat they were cooking on a skillet.

Andrew yawned and rubbed his eyes until his vision cleared up. Renamon stood above him, except from where he sat on the ground it was more like she was _towering _over him with her hands resting upon her hips.

"Get up," she said. "I don't want the trail to grow any colder than it has."

Pushing himself off the ground, Andrew stood and stretched, feeling something pop in his back. Brushing the bits of dirt out of his hair and clothes, the boy thought he would give just about anything to be able to sleep in a real bed again, even Renamon's hammock was preferable to the hard ground. Last night he had slept well enough, but only because of how exhausted he was by the time he laid down. That was all well and good for now, but he wasn't sure just how much longer his body was going to enjoy having earth for a mattress and rocks for a pillow. He might have to get used to it, there seemed to be quite a few nights ahead of him of 'roughing it'.

There was a light tap on his shoulder. Andrew looked up at Renamon who appeared to be chewing on something. She motioned for him to hold out his hand and when he did she poured what looked like blueberries into it. He thanked her for the food, and she waved it off like it wasn't a big deal to her.

Just like the first time he had sampled some of this world's vegetation he started with just a small sample bite, and just like before he found that what he had was pretty good. In fact, he thought that these actually were blueberries; or at least something so close that it didn't matter to his stomach. He greedily wolfed down the rest of his food, pleased with the feeling of contempt that was spreading inside of his stomach.

Renamon, who was kneeling down at the edge of the small clearing they had camped in, finished inspecting the ground and stood up again.

"Datamon went this way, and by the looks of his tracks he wasn't in much of a hurry." She glanced over her shoulder at the boy and nodded her head in the direction her body was facing. "Come on."

Before leaving, Andrew took one last look around their camp grounds. They had no supplies, so there was nothing to pack up (something that he was very uneasy with, but it wasn't like there was a camping store they could just walk into out here), and the fire they had build the night before had long since died leaving in it's place a small circle of ash of brunt wood surrounded by rocks.

_For a second I think we actually connected,_ he thought as he crossed to where Renamon was waiting. Together they continued their quest to track down the first of the Dark Lord's generals.

Following in Datamon's tracks was easy enough. It was obvious by the evenly spaced ruts that he had traveled in some sort of motorized vehicle, though Andrew didn't think 'car' would be the right word for it. The tracks were deep, but no thicker than a bike tire with a thicker track in the center that was twice the size as the rest, but not as deeply embedded into the ground. As far as he could tell Datamon looked like he was riding around in some sort of giant tricycle, but somehow Andrew doubted it would look anywhere near as innocent judging by the amount of damage done to the foliage around his tracks. Some of the bushes and grass was bent, but would most likely heal itself in time. Most of the foliage around the tracks, however, were ripped to shreds like someone came at it with a giant weed-wacker.

"He sure didn't try too hard to cover his tracks," Andrew said, offering the first piece of conversation to pass between them since leaving camp almost four hours ago.

Renamon grunted in response, and for awhile Andrew thought this was going to be her only response until she added: "He probably thinks we're dead."  
"Guess that'll make it easier to sneak up on him," Andrew offered, meaning the comment to be something like a joke.

A small smile touched Renamon's lips, one that he didn't care for one bit. She held the same look that a cat would have when it's about to torturing an injured bird before the kill.

There was good inside of Renamon, he had no doubt about that, but there was also cruelty lying inside of there as well, and Andrew hoped he would never find himself the victim of that viciousness.

"-collar in the first place?" her voice said, catching his ear.

Andrew blinked as if coming out of a deep trance as he turned his attention back to Renamon. "Huh? What was that?"

"I said: what made you point out that collar in the first place. Pay attention, rookie."

"Oh. Sorry."

Andrew assumed she was speaking of the black ring that was around the neck of Agumon and then SkullGreymon. The obvious answer was that just that both were wearing the same item when everything else changed, but that wasn't really the truth. It had been a feeling deep in his gut; a kind of uneasiness that he could almost feel baking right off of that ring.

"I didn't like it," he said at last. "There was something about that collar that seemed so deeply wrong that, I dunno, I just knew that had to be it. Why? Do you know what it was?"

Renamon shook her head. "No. Never saw anything like it before, but I guess we'll find out soon enough, we're getting close."

"How do you know?"

"The air's changing," she said with a flare of her nostrils, "and not for the better."

She would say no more on the subject, not that it mattered. It was less than an hour later when the stink in the air was so strong that even Andrew's dulled human sense of smell could not ignore it: the air was rank with the odors of oil, ash, and sewage. While he had never been to the industrial district of his own city, he imagined it smelled a lot like this.

As they walked the trees around them began to thin greatly until all that was around them were sickly brown sticks poking up out of the ground like graves markers, each possessing dead branches that looked a little too much like skeletal arms and fingers reaching outward to snatch up little boys and gobble them up making Andrew move a little closer to Renamon.

It didn't take long for the trees to grow so thin that they were practically gone entirely, letting the boy see what appeared to be tall cement smoke stacks poking upward out of the horizon, about a half dozen in all, each one billowing out smoke the color of clouds before a storm. It was as he was taking in this very out-of-place sight that Andrew realized that the forest had grown eerily silent.

Even here in this world the forests had their own sounds all competing for attention, but at some point they had simply stopped. No matter how hard he strained his ears all he could hear was their footsteps upon the underbrush, the beating of his own heart, and the sound of running water somewhere ahead of them. Except... the water sounded wrong. In what way, he couldn't tell and when he tried to explain to himself just why that water sounded strange the only word he could come up with was 'thick'. Somehow, that water just sounded thick.

Andrew felt a hand clash around his shoulder and nearly screamed, some fearful and childish part of him saying that the trees really _had_ come after him. After everything he had see in this world so far, living trees were not exactly out of the question. But when he saw that it was only Renamon, his cheeks turned red with embarrassment. As she gently turned him towards her and got down on one knee so that they were at eye level, Andrew thought how lucky he was for holding in that scream. There was no fear whatsoever in her face, only a hard determination. He knew there was no way he could ever be as brave as she was, he thought, but if he didn't at least make some kind of effort than what good was he as a tamer?

"We were lucky last time; you realize that, don't you?" she plainly stated.

Andrew nodded his head to say that he did.

"Luck has a way of turning on a person; you know this too?"

"Yeah."

Renamon continued: "The fact that we survived our last encounter is nothing short of miraculous, and judging by how easy these tracks were to follow I'm willing to bet Datamon believes we're dead. When we go in we're going to be quiet and we're going to be careful, understand."

Andrew nodded again. Seeming to be satisfied, Renamon stood up and looked forward towards the smokestacks which looked so alien in this woodland area with her hands planted on her hips. "And this time," she added, offering the boy a glare out of the corner of her eye, "when I tell you to hide, stay hidden."

Without waiting for an answer, Renamon walked onwards.

The flat, almost barren landscape created a weird sense of distance. No mater how long they walked it seemed the smoke stacks up ahead grew no closer. It was almost as if they weren't heading towards anywhere real at all, but rather some kind of painted background that was being pulled away from them with every step.

They had been following the tracks for hours now without problem, but now there a knot in the boy's stomach that caused all of his nerves to stand a full alert. When he asked if Renamon wanted him to climb on her back so they could leap the rest of the way just as they had the day before last, she shook her head.

"We're already exposed enough out here," she said. "There's no need to give away our position until necessary."

Andrew agreed, but he wasn't happy about it. He just had a bad feeling about all of this. He tried to tell himself it was only the foul air and creepy surroundings playing trick on his mind, but it did nothing to ease his fears.

A long stretch of passed before they reached the building where the tracks ended. The further they came towards their destination the more the ground grew wet and muddy. Thick weeds grew up around the dead earth and in some places they were so tangled and impassable that the two of them had to detour around.

As they closed in on the building looming ahead, Andrew started the notice how the mud had a weird shine to it and would shimmer a little in the late afternoon sun. While he was transfixed by the odd (and somewhat unpleasant) shine Andrew had the misfortune of stepping into a rather thick pool of mud which greedily sucked up around his foot and held it in place like it was glued causing the boy to fall forward. He would have landed facedown in the very mud he was looking at had Renamon not snatched the back of his shirt and pull him upright again.

"Thanks," he said as he worked his shoe free.

"No more daydreaming out here. That can get you killed," She scholded.

Andrew said nothing. It might just have been his imagination, but he thought that he heard a little bit of concern in her voice. Maybe.

Andrew had a fair idea of what to expect by the time they arrived at the building, yet actually seeing it was still stunning. Standing before them in the middle of what was once a beautiful forest, was a power plant. The towers above them billowing out smoke from whatever was burning inside and on the right side of the building a large pipe jutted outwards, answering a lot of riddles: why the ground was shining, why the trees were dead, and why the water he thought he heard sounded 'thick'. From this jutting pipe poured out an uncountable number of gallons of raw sewage into what at one time might have been a large pond. Over time the waste had leaked into the earth and roots, soaking the ground with oil and suffocating the flora. The only thing that grew out here now was the weeds.

"What is this place?" Renamon asked with a touch of disgusted awe in her voice.

"A factory," he responded. "A factory for... something."

Andrew looked back at the tracks in the mud and traced them with his eyes all the way to a metal garage door which had been rolled closed. Beside it where three short sets that lead to a heavy looking metal door. Other than these two things, Andrew couldn't see another way inside the big block of cement and steel.

The boy wandered around towards the side of the building where the sewage pipe was, and where the stink was at its worst. As he looked at it an idea came to him, one that he didn't like at all.

"I guess we can try to get in through this pipe," he suggested. "If it's pumping out that much gunk than it has to lead right into factory. We could probably find a vent or something inside that pipe to-"

From his left came the sound of a knob turning and the heavy door creaking open. Andrew craned his neck over and saw Renamon standing at the top of the steps, holding the door open and looking back at him.

"If Datamon didn't cover his tracks than he wouldn't have bothered to lock the door." A small smile crossed her lips and she cocked her head to one side. "Although _you_ can still crawl through the sewage, if you like."

With his head dropped and shoulders slumped Andrew crossed back to the front of the building and went though the door Renamon was holding open.

"Good choice," she said as she stepped in after him, allowing the door the swing shut behind her.

Andrew had to blink several times for his eyes to adjust to the dim light. There were no windows inside the factory, only the dull fluorescent lights that hummed far above their heads.

When he could properly see again Andrew found he was standing at the end of a short hallway that seemed to expand in a large room at the opposite end. Wide glass windows stood on the left side of the hall and Renamon was already peering through one; her hands upon the glass and a look of horror spreading across her face.

Through the window Andrew could see the heart of the facility. The insides looked exactly like the kind he'd seen on TV: big rooms with white stone floors and metal beams reaching the ceiling. There were numerous production lines of moving conveyer belts that weaved in and out of metal containers, the purpose of which Andrew could not even guess. If this had been all there were than he wouldn't have even regarded the room with a second glance, but it was when he saw what was being created, and by who, that caused his heart to sink in his chest.

Dark Rings. There were hundreds of them, perhaps even thousands. The exact same device that took control of Agumon was being mass produced within this building. Numerous Digimon were working the lines assembling the final touches collars, meaning that there were standing at the end of the belts.

"I know some of them." Renamon's voice was so numb and soft that Andrew almost didn't hear it over the rumble of the machines.

"You do?"

"From the Daycare," she mumbled, not blinking. "I was in the same class with them."

"Why? Why would they be helping Datamon?" he asked, not understanding what would compel these Digimon to work for a monster like Datamon.

"Look," she pointed through the glass.

He looked back into the room and saw exactly what Renamon wanted him to see: the Digimon weren't just making the rings, they were wearing them. They all went about their assigned actions like sleepwalkers; their eyes dull and glassy, looking out but not seeing. Andrew watched as two of the Digimon: one a small brown rabbit-like creature with long ears that reached the floor and three spikes on its head, and the other resembling a blue dog walking upright slammed into each other while crossing the factory floor. They each backed up a step, stood where they were for several seconds with the same blank expressions before moving around each other and continuing on.

Andrew was suddenly reminded of a toy he had when he was younger. It was a small robot that you turned on and it would coast across the floor, and whenever it hit an obstacle it would do the exact thing those two Digimon did: back up, wait several seconds, and then find a new path. As a little kid Andrew thought it was just the greatest thing he had ever seen, but now it made his skin want to crawl.

"We have to do something," he said. "We have to free them."

"I'm afraid I would find that to be quite unsatisfactory," said a mechanized voice from far to their right. Both Andrew and Renamon turned towards the large room at the other end of the hallway. There a square platform was lowering to the ground and on top of it stood Datamon.

"You bastared!" Renamon screamed, "What have you done to them?"

"The same thing that will happen to all who oppose our Dark Lord," the robot responded indifferently.

Andrew looked from Datamon to the enslaved Digimon that toiled away around them. "Those collars, what are they?"

"The items that you are looking at are called 'Dark Rings'. They have the ability to cancel out all of the troublesome 'freewill' for a state of blissful obedience; an improvement if I may say," Datamon boasted. "I may not have invented the technology, but I _have_ perfected it. Once a Dark Ring had to be powered by Control Spires, but dozens of these towers were required at various strategic posts to keep the Rings working. The method was barbaric and ineffective."

Datamon spread a hand out over the windows that showed off his enslaved staff, presenting them as if they were trophies. "I have improved upon the original design and allowed each Ring to work independently; Control Spires are no longer required. There is no longer any fear of a wearer wandering out of range, nor the risk of a Spire being destroyed."

Datamon tossed Andrew a wicked glare. "Did that satisfy your question, little human? Believe me when I say you will not enjoy the knowledge for long. You have survived the battle with SkullGreymon, and for this I applaud you, but I have adjusted my numbers accordingly in light of this new data and can accurately say that your chances of victory at your current status stand at zero percent. Logically you should surrender now."

The rage boiling inside of Renamon finally broke and she charged toward Datamon at such a speed that she was almost a yellow blur of fur and teeth.

"Like hell," she cried as she pulled back her fist as swung at the machine.

Andrew watched fascinated as Datamon stood directly in front of Renamon one second, and the next he was off to one side. The punch that was supposed to send Datamon sailing across the room hit nothing but air causing the fox to stumble and just barely catch her footing. No sooner had she regained her balance did Datamon smack her across the back of her head, the blow knocking Renamon to the ground with a grunt

"Renamon!" Andrew cried in shock as he began to race down the hall, not knowing exactly what he was going to do when he got there. Luckily, before he could get that far, Renamon got onto her knees and held up her hand at him like a traffic cop, causing him to skid to a stop.

"I'm fine," she said as she pulled herself to her feet. "You keep out of the way. This won't take long."

"No," agreed Datamon with a hint of smugness in his voice. "Indeed it will not."

Renamon charged again delivering a slew of punches left and right, each one Datamon dodged with ease what Andrew could hardly see. As she swung it seemed as through blue fire burned around her hands. It was incredible that something that looked to large and clunky could avoid those powerful looking blows. That knot in his gut clenched harder than ever.

"Renamon, a rookie level Digimon and the evolved form of Vixiemon," Datamon began to recite as he moved. "Capable of incredible speed and strength, her main attacks include Diamond Storm and Power Paw. I, in contrast, am an Ultimate level."

Renamon swung again, but rather than dodging, Datamon caught her punch on one of his mechanical hands, stopping her attack cold.

"That upgrade makes me faster than you," he said and delivered a hard punch to her gut with his free hand; one that would have taken her to the floor if she wasn't being held up.

"It makes me stronger than you." He smacked her across the face loud enough to hear over the machinery.

"There is statistically no way for you be beat me." Datamon let go of her hand and swung his fist upwards, catching Renamon beneath the chin and sending her flying across the room. "Your assault was admirable, but ultimately moronic and I have grown tired of this game. It is time to end this. Digital Bomb!"

Andrew could only watch as Renamon was pummeled. He was desperate to do something, anything, to help, but didn't know what. He was no where near strong enough to cause any harm to this creature. The best he could do like this was get in the way; exactly what Renamon took care to warn him against. Still, he couldn't stand to see this happen to her. It wasn't because without Renamon he was sure to die in this world, or because she was supposed to be his Partner, it wasn't even because they were the only chance this world had; he had to do something because Renamon was, in a weird sort of way, his friend. If anything happened to her, he didn't know what he would do.

To his left stood Datamon, gloating with one hand stretched out before him as if he were reaching for something. To his right lay Renamon breathing heavily and barely moving. One more good hit, Andrew realized, and she would be history. If he was going to do anything, now was the time.

Andrew heard Datamon shout out his attack, much like Renamon had done when they first met, and saw a beam of light gather around his outstretched hand as if it were gaining energy.

Andrew was moving before he even knew he was doing it.

There was no time to get to Renamon and even less to reach Datamon, so instead the boy threw himself between the two, planting his feet firmly to the floor and stretching out his arms like someone about to give a hug. From behind him he could hear Renamon screaming at him to stop, but there was no time, even if he had wanted to.

In that same instant Renamon yelled, Datamon fired, and Andrew was struck head on by an attack that was meant to delete any digital being. As a creature of flesh and blood, he could not be deleted, but that did not make him immune to the blast. Pain, like a million volts of electricity, shot though his body, causing his head to whip back and every nerve under his skin to scream as if lit on fire.

He tried to call out, but no sound would come from his throat. Mercifully, the shock lasted only a second, but that was all the time needed for the damage to be done. Andrew wavered on his feet for a moment and then collapsed. He was unconscious before he ever hit the floor.

**To be continued.**


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

There didn't seem to be any part of her that didn't ache. Her stomach felt like someone had forced hot coals into it and her head pounded endlessly. She tried to pick herself off the floor, but could not find her balance. The entire room seemed like it was swaying back and forth as if they were on a boat rocking in a heavy storm. She could still hear Datamon taunting her from across the room. It wasn't enough that she had been beaten and bruised, but the smug son-of-a-bitch continued to belittle her.

When Datamon remarked that he was done with 'this game', she didn't doubt it for a minute. He might have been a braggart, but no liar. Datamon was planning on finishing her, and unless she got out of the way, this building was going to be her grave, but she could barely move, let alone dodge.

_This is it, _she realized. _This is where I die._

That was when she heard the sound of sneakers running against the stone floor. Renamon shot her head up (a movement that caused everything to blur for a second and sent a particularly painful spike driving through her brain) and saw the boy racing towards them. At first she was confused, but then with a cold revelation, Renamon understood exactly what he meant to do.

She tried to get to her feet, to pull the stupid kid out of the way before something happened, but as she rose her gut knotted up into a tight ball, sending her back down again. Renamon screamed for him to move, but he either didn't hear her or didn't listen.

Renamon was forced to watch as Datamon's attack struck the boy in the chest. His body went stiff and his head flung back far enough for Renamon to catch a glimpse at the expression of agony on his face. He looked like he was trying to scream, but couldn't make a sound.

After what felt like a lifetime for Renamon (and most likely even longer for Andrew) the attack ceased and the boy wavered on his feel like someone who's had a few too many. Whatever strength left in the boy's legs gave out and he feel to the floor.

She saw all of this with a mixed sense of horror and confusion. She couldn't understand just why he had done that. He had to know what would happen, so why did he purposely throw himself in harms way?

_To save me?_ She thought. _He couldn't have done it to save me, could he?_

"R-rookie?" she croaked through a throat that was sore and raw, but the boy didn't move.

"Rookie?"

There was still no response, and Renamon realized that she couldn't even tell if he was breathing.

"Andrew?"

Nothing. He could be dead; he very well could be dead. After all that last attack was supposed to put her away, so what could a hit like that do to a human?

"Interesting," Datamon spoke in the casual 'isn't-this-all-so-droll' voice of his. "The effects of a data assault on an organic. I will make note of this later."

At the sound of Datamon's voice all of that confusion and fear was knocked out of her and was replaced by pure rage. He had killed her master, turned his students into mindless drones, and now Andrew...

That was what got her the most. He had jumped in the line of fire to save her life and Datamon mocked him for it. He stood over the boy's body and gloated. She wouldn't let it end like this. Andrew had given her the second chance she needed at the risk of his own life and now... now...

Renamon felt something; a feeling that began deep inside of her and then spread though out her body. She had only felt this once before in her life, but she knew exactly what it was. The pain, for as strong as it was, flooded out of her and in its place she could feel her body begin to change. Her fur and skin, muscle and bone all began to morph into something different, something new. Renamon was Digivolving.

Datamon, so sure of his victory at this point and thinking only of the reward that was sure to come after crushing the only opposition to the Dark Lords eternal reign, failed to notice what was happening to his opponent, instead he continued to gloat; playing with his prey and feeding his ego.

"You should have counted your losses and given up long ago," Datamon said to the boy's body. "Even if my security cameras _hadn't _caught you in your pathetic attempt to sneak into my factory, I still would be the logical winner. You are weak, little Renamon, as is your sad excuse for a tamer. Oh well, such is the folly of you organic beings. At least you have the knowledge that you died at the hands of... of, uh..."

Datamon now became aware of the ever intensifying light that was growing in this room coming directly from Renamon. When it faded away there was something new standing before him; a fox creature that stood on all fours, nine tails protruding where there was once only one, and wearing bells attached to long, thick red and white ropes warped around it's neck, blue fire seemed to constantly burn from around her paws and tail. The creature looked fierce and the power he could feel radiating off of it was like nothing he had ever known. Datamon began to scan his memory banks for the proper information, slowing retreating as he did so.

"Oh, um... Kyubimon; the evolved Champion form of Renamon. Attacks, um, attacks include Fox Tail Inferno and Dragon Wheel."  
Kyubimon was pleased not only to see Datamon backing away from her, but also that the smugness had been wiped clean from his voice, and for every step he took away from her, she closed the distance by advancing forward. She was very careful when stepping over Andrew and something about doing that felt wrong and almost insensitive, but she wanted him safely behind her just incase Datamon had any smart ideas about attacking him again.

"Calculated chances of opponent victory at eighteen percent and rising," Datamon spat as he continued to retreat, becoming increasingly aware of the stone wall gaining ever closer to his back. "Twenty-two percent. Thirty-nine percent. Fifty percent. Eighty-eight percent."

When his back struck against the wall, Datamon cried out and Kyubimon took her cue to attack. Datamon watched with increasing horror as Kyubimon's many yellow tails grew brighter than he could stand to look at, yet he found unable to look away. The very air around her seemed suddenly filled with ghostly faces, each one glaring at him with a level of hate he didn't think possible. Just when he thought he would be driven mad by what he was viewing, each face simultaneously burst into fireballs and hurled themselves at him.

Kyubimon watched as Datamon was encased in the flames of her Fox Tail Inferno. From inside she heard him cry out once; perhaps from pain or fear, or maybe both, before falling silent. When the fire died there was nothing left in the spot Datamon had stood expect for a faint scorch mark.

With Datamon destroyed Kyubimon felt like all of her energy was draining from her. She closed her eyes and took a second to catch her breath. Upon opening them again she was not surprised (yet a little disappointed) to find she had become Renamon once again. What she wanted to do then was lay down and sleep for days on end, but such luxuries would have to wait. There was something much more important to attend to.

Crossing the room Renamon knelt down next to Andrew and pressed the side of her head against his chest. She listened as carefully as she could over the whine of the machinery, hoping against hope. For one horrifying moment she couldn't hear anything at all from the boy, and she felt her heart drop into her stomach. Covering her other ear with her hand to drown out the noise around them she heard what she wanted: a heartbeat. It was quieter than she would have liked, but it was still there and Andrew was still alive.

Renamon breathed a sigh of relief as leaned back on her knees. "Rookie, that was the stupidest thing I've ever seen. You're lucky you're not dead right now or else I'd kill you."

She looked down at him and brushed some of his hair out of his face. "I need to leave you here for a minute, okay?" she said, knowing he could probably not hear him, but feeling the need to reassure him, anyway. "I'm going to come back for you, so don't worry. There's just something I have to do first."

She was reluctant to leave Andrew, especially in a place like this, but her work here wasn't done. There was still the task of freeing the others or else they were bound to stay here working for no master for the rest of their lives.

There was a metal door on the same wall as the hallway ended and, while it was windowless, Renamon guessed by its position that it lead to the same floor they were looking in before the ambush. This was where Renamon went. When she tried the door, the knob refused to turn. It seemed Datamon had kept some of this place locked up after all.

To the door's right was a key pad with the numbers one through nine printed across its buttons. She guessed that a code would unlock the door, but she wouldn't bother. She had her own special key.

The door burst inwards and even broke off its upper hinge as Renamon brought the full force of her body behind one kick just above the knob. Inside everyone continued to work as if nothing was going on; to them, it probably wasn't.

Standing to her left operating the switchboard for some kind of smelting device was one of Renamon's old classmates and the very same brown bunny Andrew and spied earlier: Lopmon. Her fur was covered in dirt and ash and even though her face was completely blank, she still somehow managed to look tired. It looked like Datamon didn't bother to give breaks to the slaves. They've probably been going nonstop since arriving here and would have continued to work until they dropped. Renamon felt her hatred for the bucket of bolts trying to rise again, but she forced it back down. Datamon was done, his cruelty over. No good would come from dwelling over it.

"Stand still," she said, bending down behind the rabbit. "I'm going to try not to hurt you."

The collar was tight around Lopmon's neck, but Renamon was still able to find a little room for her fingers to slip in. With her hands placed on either side she began to pull. For a second there was nothing and Renamon was afraid she was going to have to find some other way, but then there came a dull creek from inside the device and then the Dark Ring ripped in two so quickly that Renamon also fell over.

As she tossed the broken thing to the floor, happy to be rid of its touch, Lopmon groaned and lifted her hands to her head.

"Wha? What's going on? Where am I?" she mumbled in her soft voice, sounding like she was waking from a deep sleep.

Lopmon began to look around as if she had never seen this place before, and most likely she hadn't. She turned around and her eyes feel upon Renamon. Relief at a familiar sight seemed to wash over her. Personally, Renamon was happy to see any emotion on the once dull face.

"Renamon? Where are we? How did we all get here?"

"That's a bit of a long story," she responded, "but for right now we need to get those collars off of everyone. Can you help me?"

Lopmon looked around at her other Digimon still under the same spell she was just recently freed from. A small shiver went up her spine when she thought of how she had been just as mindless and cold as the machines they were working on.

"Yes. I can, I think..."

Renamon stood and made her way over to the next person. "Then let's get to work."

They moved up and down the assembly line, one by one removing the Dark Rings from the confused Digimon. The process sped up after they had help from some of the captured slaves, although some were too weak from hunger to help, and others simply took off right after they were free. By the end of it Renamon was surrounded by most of her old classmates as well as some others from around the forest unlucky enough to be caught.

"I remember," one of them said, "There are cages downstairs filled with stronger Digimon. Datamon was going to move them... somewhere. It's… it's all a blur, but if they're still there we should free them, too."

"Can you help them with that?" Renamon asked Lopmon. "There's someone I need to check on."

Renamon was sure she was going to be bombarded with questions from the little bunny, she always did talk too much, but instead she was surprised when Lopmon nodded her head and told Renamon to go do whatever she had to. For that, she was grateful.

The injured were lead outside by those who could take them. The rest headed off deeper into the complex, leaving Renamon alone. Turning back the way she came Renamon headed back to where she left Andrew to rest.

She was no more than halfway to the door she had kicked in when she saw a figure standing over the boy. Renamon took in a sharp breath and bolted for the door, fearing that Datamon wasn't really dead or that he had someone else working for him that she had not seen. With a million scenarios playing through her mind, each one worse than the last, the fox ran into the large room positive that she had doomed Andrew by leaving him alone.

Her sprint skidded to a hard stop when the figure stood, turned, and flashed Renamon a very warm and familiar smile.

"You needn't worry," The Digital Elder said. "He's going to live."

**To be continued.**


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

Renamon hadn't expected to see this man again, or at least; not so soon since their last meeting. After everything that had just happened over the last-what; one hour? Two? Three? It was so easy to lose track to time inside the windowless factory-mixed with the relief she felt, her mind was reeling, which made piecing together a coherent sentence harder than she thought.

The important thing was Andrew was going to be okay. Renamon didn't think she could handle Andrew getting hurt (or worse) because he was trying to protect her when she fell. She had underestimated Datamon. Her anger became a blindfold that caused her to think Datamon would be nothing more than a clunky machine, if she had been paying attention, if she had kept her wits about her as she was trained to do, than none of this would have happened.

"You…" she managed to say before her tongue and brain betrayed her, leaving her without any more words to use.

"Me," The Elder replied.

"What are you doing here, and how did you get here so fast?"

"Because I am and because I can," he said as if that explained everything, but before Renamon could protest The Elder knelt down over Andrew once again, resting a hand on his forehead. "You're one lucky ducky. That was a virus attack Datamon released. It's meant to destroy any digital creature that it strikes. If it had hit you, Renamon, well, we wouldn't be having this conversation. The reason our little friend here is still alive is because he's flesh and blood; all that good stuff. No data to delete here."

The Elder rose to his feet placing his hands on the back of his spine and leaning backwards as if he were trying to pop his back; work out some of the stiffness. Renamon got the feeling that this was all for show, the man seemed to have a taste for the dramatic, a trait she was beginning to find very annoying.

"But he's going to be okay, right?" she pressed "You said he was going to be okay."

"Your concern is very touching," he grinned "Yeah, give the kid a little time to rest and he'll be right as rain, see if he's not."

_'Your concern is very touching.'_ There was something about that that stuck her and she wasn't quite sure why, yet it seemed to plant its self inside of her head like a large flag all the same.

She had defeated Datamon, but she couldn't do it as Renamon. In her Rookie level she wasn't strong enough to inflict any serious damage. She felt like a bird trying to stand its ground against a tornado, yet she _had_ defeated him and she did it as Kyubimon. She had Digivolved; something she had been trying to do since she became Renamon, but seemed to hit some kind of brick wall. So, why then? Why did it happen then?

_Your concern is very touching._

_It is only when you truly care, that you will understand._

The Elder had said both of these things: one just now and the other several days ago inside of his temple.

"You meant him," Renamon realized.

"Pardon?" The Elder asked, but the look on his face said he already knew what she meant.

She pointed a finger down at where Andrew slept. "When you said I couldn't Digivolve again until I cared, you meant about him."

"Renamon, do you know why a Digimon evolves? There are actually several reasons: one of them being that the power they gain becomes too much for their current bodies to handle, thus they change into something new just as you changed from Viximon.

"The second occurs when the Digimon reaches an emotional state where the need to protect themselves or others temporarily grants them the strength to do so. This is why you became Kyubimon; your desire to protect the boy was stronger than anything else. This is also why you returned to this form once your job was done. Of course, this is all the simplified version, but I think it sums things up rather nicely."

Renamon looked at where Andrew rested on the floor, and thought about the things that The Elder had said, and the things she had done. It was clear that Andrew was no longer just a forced Tamer to her now, but that begged the question; what did that make him exactly? A friend? Was it possible that she could ever have such a thing? Could the same Renamon who spent her entire life distancing herself from the world actually gain a real friend? She wasn't exactly sure, but she found the idea appealing.

The Elder's soft hand rested upon her shoulder, pulling her out of her thoughts. "Now, don't you think it's time you got him off that cold floor," he said.

"Right. Yes, of course."

Bending down, she worked her arms underneath the boy's back and legs and lifting him up as carefully as someone might lift a precious vase, Renamon cradled him against her chest. It felt strange to be holding him like this, but by now she was used to his weight and at least in her arms he looked a little less like a corpse.

"It's dark out now," The Elder informed her. "Under normal circumstances I would not advise traveling at night, but I suggest that you both head as far away from here as you are able."

"We can't go yet. There are still others in the building. We have to save them."

"I know, and I'll make sure everyone gets back to their homes safely," he assured.

"Not the ones from The Daycare," Renamon sighed, still stinging from the guilt of arriving too late. "Their home is gone."

"Perhaps; for now. I shall take them back with me. I sure there is much they can learn and much I can learn from them, now stop your worrying and go. You have finished this part of your journey and you have done it well, but there is still so much more left to do, and it will only get harder from here on out. This Dark Lord will surely be aware that something is amiss when his supply of Dark Rings halts, but know that this was a necessary risk."

"After seeing what those things could do, I don't blame you for thinking that," she said.

The Elder nodded in agreement before continuing. "Head North towards the mountains. It's here that you will find the next of the Dark Lord's generals. Find out what he's up to and put a stop to it."

"Alright, and... thank you," Renamon replied.

"Don't forget what you've learned here today and we'll call it even," he answered with a wink. "Now go, there still work for me here."

With Andrew resting safely in her arms, Renamon did as she was told and left the compound. The Elder was not lying when he said it was dark. Above them the stars twinkled in the night sky and the moon gave off just enough light to see by. Renamon moved as fast as she dared being careful to watch for the fallen trees and thick mud. She continued on well past the dead forest until they were surrounded by real trees and dry land, and even then she pushed on a little farther. She stopped to make camp only when the sight and smell of that diseased place was well behind them.

As she was building up the fire there came a sudden explosive blast far back the way they came. Renamon leapt up the closest tree as high as she could manage. From up here she could just barely see the dead forest, no more than a smudge of brown against a sea of green; something that would be almost easy to miss if it weren't for the large pillar of faint flickering red light and black smoke rising up from it, and Renamon instantly knew it's cause.

They had blown the factory. She didn't know exactly how, but one of them found a way and used it to destroy every inch of that horrible place.

_Good,_ Renamon thought as she headed back to the ground. _I would have done the same._

**O O O**_  
_

She did everything she could to make sure he was comfortable that night. On the way towards where they now camped she had come upon a small pond, not like the polluted cesspool the factory was built along side of, but an actual clean source of water, still she took a small drink first just to be sure.

After deciding that it was safe, Renamon pulled a large leaf from a nearby tree and using her thumb and finger she held it into a loose U shape which she used to gather water to pour into Andrew's mouth, though she had to rub his throat until he swallowed. Renamon wasn't sure if he needed the water or not, but it had been hours since their last meal and she knew that she was sure thirsty and starving. Now that the adrenaline had worn off and the pain was gone, her body went right back to demanding its basic needs. Well, even if he needed the water or not, it was best to play things safe for awhile. She had no way of knowing how long the boy was going to be out, and there was no point in surviving the battle if he was going to die of thirst in his sleep or something crazy like that.

Now that the fire was lit there was really nothing left to do but wait. She was still very hungry, but she didn't dare leave him again in this condition nor did she like the idea of moving him any more than she had to. Several times she tried to lie down to and get some rest, but whenever she closed her eyes she kept watching the same scene playing over and over in her head. She was back on the factory floor, immobilized with the pain inflicted upon her. Datamon aimed his arm and fired the projectile whose virus would eat away at her very core, ripping her apart from the inside out; and each time she could only watch Andrew throw himself into the line of fire to save her. He would be struck, he would fall to the ground, and then the whole thing was start over again. After awhile she just gave up trying to rest.

Renamon moved closer to sit next to Andrew, looking into the fire and occasionally poking at it with a stick. Every few minutes she would glance over that the boy to make sure everything was still okay, each time hoping to see his eyes open. She doubted that he would awaken tonight, or maybe even tomorrow, but that didn't stop her from checking.

_At least his breathing is better,_ she told herself. _So there's that._

Just as Andrew somehow found sleep that first night he spent in this new world, Renamon eventually began to doze as well. Soon she was on her side and out cold. After everything she had been through that day, it was really no surprise that sleep eventually caught up to the fox.

When she awoke, morning was long gone, she didn't even need to open her eyes to tell that she strong light piercing her eyelids indicated that it was close to afternoon, if it wasn't already. She rarely overslept in her life, Renamon was always an early riser, but she figured that it was okay to make the exception this once, especially considering the day she had just survived.

With her eyes still closed, Renamon sat up, yawned, and stretched out her arms and back, feeling as well as hearing the satisfying series of pops in her lower spine, reminding her of the same mock gesture done by The Digital Elder the day before.

_See, this is how it's really done, you old kook,_ she thought to herself. Personally, she thought he was taking his human disguise a little too far.

Her stomach growled, telling her that it demanded food right this very minute. Renamon got to her feet, trying to decide what she was going to do with Andrew. She knew she had to eat something soon, but what was she supposed to do with the boy? She could probably take him along if she didn't stray too far from the camp, but that raised the question of how she was going to get him to eat.

Renamon glanced down at where he left Andrew to judge how much she really wanted to try carrying him around again, and was struck numb by finding him gone.

Her eyes went wide as she scanned around the campsite, but there was nothing to be seen. In fact, the only evidence that Andrew had been there at all was the smashed down grass where he had slept.

Now Renamon was getting scared. She had told herself that she would not let her guard down again, but she did, and now... well, anything could be out in these woods, couldn't it? What she couldn't figure out, though, was what would take the boy while she slept, but not gone after her. Surely whatever it was would have taken the opportunity to get her as well.

There were footsteps approaching from behind her, Renamon spun around ready to pounce, thinking that she had spoken too soon and the intruder that had taken Andrew really was coming after her now.

Stepping into the tiny clearing with his head down was Andrew, one hand zipping up the fly on his pants. The boy seemed to feel the eyes upon him because his head snapped up so fast that it was a wonder it didn't pop off from his neck.

"Oh! Renamon," he said. "Sorry I scared you, but when I woke up I really had to, you know, _go_." The way he lowered his voice on the last word as if he was saying something dirty made Renamon want to simultaneously laugh and strangle him. She couldn't take any more of these cheap scares or her heart would explode.

"Are you okay?" she asked him. "Are- are you hurt at all?"

"A little sore and very hungry, but that's it." There was a small moment of silence where he looked like he was trying to grapple to find a word that wouldn't come and then finally gave up on. "We won, didn't we? At the factory? We won?"

The faintest hint of a smile touched her lips. There was something in what he said and the way he said it that she found wonderful.

Crossing the small distance between them, Renamon dropped down to her knees, wrapped her arms around him, and hugged him. She heard the boy gasp a little and his body went as stiff as steel in her arms.

"Yeah, Andrew," she grinned, "we won."

When she stepped Renamon saw the deep red color that had risen on his cheeks and she couldn't help bust muse that, for an annoying little twerp, he wasn't half bad. She then balled her right hand into a fist, cocked her arm back, and slugged him hard on the shoulder.

"Now don't you ever do anything that stupid again," she scolded in a voice that was just a few notches below a yell. "You scared the crap out of me!"

Andrew rubbed the area where he was hit and apologized, but with a smile on his face. After a second his face clouded up and a look of mild surprise came over it. "Hey, you just called me Andrew," he stated.

"Well yeah. That's your name."

"I know that, I just didn't think you knew. I figured you thought it was 'rookie' or 'kid'."

Renamon got to her feet and planted her hands on her hips. "Geez, you're not going to get all sentimental on me now are you, _rookie_?"

"No, ma'am," Andrew responded with his smile creeping back.

"Good. Now, let's see what we can do about food before we head North."

"What's up North?" he asked, cocking his head to one side.

"Dunno. Guess we'll find out together."

With the sun above their heads and a slight breeze blowing against their backs, Digimon and Tamer continued on their quest. The first milestone had been crossed and the first test of their friendship and been passed, but there was still so much left: victories and defeats, friends and enemies, life and death.

**O O O**

It sat on its throne surrounded by the darkness it loved so much. The dark hid his deeds. The dark struck fear into the hearts of those who lived in the light. The dark would envelope this whole planet in a never ending cascade of night and the Digimon within this world would spend their lives within his nightmare for which there would be no awakening. On its left side sat Biyomon upon her perch; an odd splotch of pink and purple color within a blacken room. She had been busy cleaning the tips of her wings when her head shot up.

"Oooh! Dark Lord! We have a guest!" she tittered.

A knock came from the other side of the massive double doors that stood at the other end of the room. Biyomon swooped down off of her perch as one of the doors was pulled open and a small creature with blue skin and a black hood with one red and one green eye painted on top stepped though the opening it had made. Biyomon landed before this creature, fluttering her wings.

"Be gone! Be gone! Our master is busy plotting the death of this world so his black empire may rise! Be gone!"

"Outta my way, bird-brain." The second Digimon said, swinging one hand in a slap, but took flight and hovered out of the other's reach before she could be stuck.

"Ooo! Now you're gonna get it!"

"Biyomon," Its voice commanded from the throne. "Return. Now."

Biyomon looked back at her master then back to the other Digimon whom she stuck her tongue out at before returning to her perch.

"Approach, Dracmon." The Dark Lord motioned with his hand towards himself. Dracmon took several quick steps forward before dropping to one knee with his hands out before if as if surrendering. Of course, his hands were not outstretched to surrender, they were outstretched because on the palms of his hands was where he kept his eyes. "What is your news?"

"Dark Lord, we have received notice that all production within the factory as ceased and all commutations have been severed. We have reason to believe sabotage, my lord."

"What of Datamon?"

"Gone, sir, most likely dead."

"And the others?"

"Still reporting the 'all-clear' from their posts," Dracmon reported.

There was a moment of silence in the room, but it was enough to upset Dracmon. When there was quiet one could hear noises radiating from deep within the castle's walls, noises that upset the mind and tortured the soul. Dracmon hated it.

"A minor inconvenience at best," it said after its brief consideration. "Datamon had long since outlived his usefulness. The plan is unchanged. Tell my men to continue on as before, but Dracmon?"

"My lord?" the small Digimon asked.

"Make sure everyone keeps their vigilance about them. Those annoyances will pop their heads up again and when they do," The Dark Lord clutched the arms of this throne as he leaned forward, his shadow completely covering Dracmon's small frame. "I want those heads cut off."

**To be continued.**


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

Food was plentiful inside of the digital forest, if not a little redundant. For several days now Andrew had been living off a diet of nothing but fruit and berries. The food was still good and did wonders to quell his growling stomach, he couldn't help but think he'd do just about anything to get his hands on a cheeseburger. He had heard a quote once that went something along the lines of 'man can not live on bread alone'. While he had forgotten exactly where he had come by that little nugget of knowledge, Andrew was beginning to find that it rang true. The fruit no longer had the same sweet taste it once did when he first tried it, and all of the juice was starting to screw with his bathroom habits. In fact, the thing that had really aroused him from his little pain induced coma was an overwhelming need to relieve his bladder.

His body felt stiff and achy, but the need to urinate was an incredible motivator to get his butt up and work out the soreness. Andrew had tried to wake Renamon before stepping into the woods, but she was 'dead to the world' as his mother would have said. Finally he just gave up and hurried behind a thicket of trees thinking the odds of her waking up within the short span of time he was out of sight were pretty slim. Well, joke was on him that day.

Later, as they sat under the shade of the treetops eating their meal, Renamon explained everything that had happened after he blacked out. She seemed to get particularly embarrassed about what exactly had caused her to Digivolve into Kyubimon, but to her credit, she told him everything when she could have just as easily skirted around the truth, or outright lie to the kid who wouldn't know any better.

It was reassuring to know that everyone enslaved by the Dark Ring's power had been freed and that the factory it's self had been destroyed. There was nothing good about what could have come from a place like that; better to let it burn and allow nature to slowly retake the land it had lost. Still there was a part of her story that caused him to wonder about something he had first thought of when he saw SkullGreymon.

As if sensing these questions, Renamon paused in her meal to ask if something was bothering him.

"Renamon," he said, "when you... change; is... I mean, is that still you?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, giving him a confused look.

"When you become Kyubimon you have a new name and a new body, right? You become something completely new, so despite all of that is that are you still you?"

Renamon smiled, as if to say she understood exactly what he was trying to ask even if he didn't have the right words for it. "You don't have anything to worry about," she said. "I might look different, but that doesn't mean I'm someone else. I still know who I am and I'll know who you are. I would never hurt you."

"Promise?" he asked.

"Promise," she responded without hesitation.

That particular conversation had been about three days ago. Since then they had been making their way North; sometimes with Andrew riding as Renamon jumped across the treetops, and sometimes simply walking across the forest floor. At first Andrew had found that he wasn't quite as healthy as he thought. He would often get winded quickly and feel a dull, but pounding ache inside of his chest in about the same place he had been struck. When these frequent, but thankfully short-lived, bouts would occur Renamon would let Andrew sit and rest until he felt better. If these breaks ever annoyed her, she didn't show it; a big change from when she was upset with just having to be near him, Andrew mused.

Around these times Renamon would offer to carry him for a bit as she jumped from one tree to the next; and if the 'side-stitch' as Andrew began calling them-despite the fact that the throb was coming from the center of his chest-was particular bad he would agree, but often he tried to just ride them out, stating that if he didn't at least attempt to work out the kinks, they would never go away.

Thankfully, by the second day the side stitch episodes were much fewer. By the third they were pretty much gone.

Nothing of real interest happened in that passage of time. They ate their meals, made their camps, and worked their way closer to the mountain ranges ahead which continued to grow larger and more intimidating all the time. Andrew found himself wishing that they had remembered to take Datamon's vehicle before the factory was blown sky high, but judging by the way that three wheeled car ripped up everything around it, perhaps it was best that it was destroyed along with everything else in that place. The speed and convenience wasn't worth demolishing half of the world they were trying to save.

As they walked Renamon began to ask question about Andrew and his world to which the boy eagerly replied. For those three days he told her stories about his life and his world and Renamon intently listened to each and every one despite how dull or mundane it was. At first Andrew couldn't understand exactly why was so interested in the stupid little things he used to do day in and day out. It wasn't until one evening that he was laying down to go sleep and looking up at the stars that the answer struck him; one so simple and obvious that he felt moronic for not realizing it instantly.

All of this time Andrew saw himself as the normal creature surrounded by alien creatures, but if he looked at things through Renamon's eyes, then he was the alien. She was listening to his stories just as he would listen if a spaceman came down and told him of what life was like on Mars. Seeing things through that state of mind made everything, even the simplest and mundane activity seem exciting.

"I would like to see your world," she had said that night as he lay half-asleep before their fire.

"Maybe you will," he said. "When all of this is over, maybe you will."

**O O O**

It was on that third day when they came across what Andrew rightfully believed to be railroad tracks. If they had been going across the treetops that day instead of walking, than they would have almost certainly have missed them.

Andrew was feeling particularly good that morning and wanted to see if the pains were really gone for good or if they were simply lying dormant. So as they were making their way through the trees with the breeze gently slipping by them and the fallen leaves crunching underfoot, something had caught the corner of his eye. He was walking next to Renamon and regaling her with tales about one time his family had gone on a beach vacation and how it rained non-stop throughout the entire trip when he just happened to look over to the right and saw something glint off of the ground for just a minute before disappearing again.

Andrew stopped in his tracks and stood looking at the part of the woods where he thought he saw something shine. Renamon made it two more steps before noticing that the unfortunate, but rather humorous story had stopped. She turned around and followed the boy's eyes, trying to see what he was seeing.

"What are you looking at?" she asked.

"I'm not sure," he said. "I thought I saw something, but-"

Just then the wind picked up once more causing the trees to sway. Andrew saw it again, something not too far off in the distance that was picking up the light and flickering it back.

"There," he pointed. What do you suppose that is?" he asked.

Renamon shrugged. "Let's find out."

Several minutes later they were standing at a section of track that extended North and South as far as his eyes could see. The only thing really unique about them was the tracks looked different than any he had ever seen. When Andrew thought of train tracks he thought of a pair of steel bars running perfectly even across a bedding of wood beams. Well, this one still had the wooden boards dug into the earth, but instead of two bars to guide the wheels there was just one running down the exact middle of the track.

_They're monorail tracks, then,_ he told himself. _Yeah, monorail tracks just sitting out here in the middle of the woods. Sure._

"Renamon, should these be here? I mean, what are we looking at, exactly?"

"If were lucky," she said with a grin, "and if these keep going in the direction we want, than what were looking at is a great short-cut. Good eyes, Rookie."

With that said the yellow fox continued North following the rails with Andrew following behind.

"Uh, Renamon? That didn't answer my question," he called, catching up to her.

His only response was her silence and a small smile that said she was having fun at his expense.

"R-Renamon? Renamon? Aw, come on~."

**O O O**

As it turned out luck really was on their side. By mid morning on the next day a building began to rise out of the distance that the rails cut right through, a building that Andrew recognized as a small train station, a _very_ small train station from the looks of it. Most of the building was open aired, covered by a dome roof. To either side of the tracks were raised concrete platforms with benches neatly spaced out, and as he moved in closer, Andrew saw that the small area that actually was closed in by walls was a kind of office. But the most important thing, or at least the thing that seemed to be holding Renamon's attention, was the train parked neatly on the rails under the dome roof facing away from them. Only the head car remained, as far as he could tell whatever it might have pulled behind it was long gone.

Seeing the train depot was interesting at first, but as they approached the building, Andrew had his first glimpse at how old it was. Leaves and debris covered the station floor, the wooden benches had lost their coats of paint and one had even fallen apart. When he looked in through the grimy window that went into the office he saw that everything inside: the desk, the chair, the filing cabinets were covered with dust. This place was abandoned years ago and Andrew failed to see what, if anything at all, was going to help them here.

"I don't mean to burst your bubble, but this place is completely empty. Unless you became a conductor in the last five minutes I don't think we're going to get that thing moving." Andrew motioned with his head at the parked train which didn't look as bad as the station around it, but still had many years on it.

The train itself was a large rectangular car painted a dull orange color. At the top near the front was a tall smokestack that then widened at the bottom and flattened out in a circle. To Andrew it looked a bit like a cowboy hat. Below this were two headlights that had been closed (he wasn't even aware that the lights on a train _could_ be opened and closed) and below all of that were two metal plates stretched around the front, one slightly covering the other, that seemed to have no purpose at all.

The lower one was white with black lines almost making it look like teeth on a smiling mouth where as the upper layer was colored a deep brown. At first it ran just above the other plate but then swooped down over the outer edges in a kind of mustache shape. When he looked at it all together: the smoke stack, the closed headlights, the plates; it almost resembled a face. Andrew thought he should find the image disturbing, but there was nothing inherently sinister about it. In a way it almost looked, well, friendly.

Renamon, who was standing next to this train that someone had made to look vaguely like a person, raised one finger to her lips and hushed him.

"Listen," she said. "What do you hear?"

Andrew tried to 'open his ears' as the saying went, but at first all he could hear was the wind. He opened his mouth to say this, but Renamon only hushed him again. Working as hard as he could he hear whatever it was he was supposed to listen for, Andrew closed his eyes and crossed his arms trying to focus only with his ears. The boy stood there for several moments looking like someone who was trying to make a difficult decision when he did notice something: it was a very faint but very distinct sound: snoring.

His eyes shot open and his head turned towards Renamon who read the look on the boy's face and nodded in response.

"There's someone else here," he said.

"Yep; took you long enough." She turned her attention away from him and towards the train. "Hey Trailmon, wake up! You have company!"

Suddenly it was so clear; the station might have been empty, but there was something still living inside this train. Who ever Trailmon was, he would be able to drive them down the tracks toward the mountains. First, thought, he had to wake up.

Renamon tried calling to this 'Trailmon' again, but without any success. Finally she bent down, picked up a piece of cement that had broken off from the floor, and chucked it at the train. It bounced off the side with an audible clang and a second later there came a yelp of surprise and pain that seemed to vibrate the station, stirring up tiny clouds of dust.

"Eeeouch," the voice went, and Andrew realized that it wasn't coming from inside the train, but _from_ the train. The headlights opened and then seemed to blink several times, like someone who was trying to adjust their eyes to a sudden bright light. The white metal plate Andrew had thought of as a mouth coughed up a cloud of dust.

"Shoot," the train, Trailmon, said in a thick accent that sounded Texan to Andrew. "Now why'd you go an' do a thing like that fer? I was havin' me the sweetest dreams."

Andrew started to back away from the talking box of metal. He had seen a lot of crazy things over the past week or so, but this: a living train, this just blew everything else away.

_Every time I think I'm getting a grip on this world something even weirder happens. Oh man, how much more of this can I take?_ He groaned inside his head.

Before Andrew could move more than a step, Renamon reached out at placed her hand firmly on his back, keeping him in place.

"Behave," she scolded him under her breath before speaking to Trainmon. "Sorry for the rude awakening, but in my defense you're a pretty sound sleeper."

To Andrew's amazement, Trailmon laughed at this. "Ah'yep. I reckon I do rest purtty deep-like, but in _my_ defense no one's used this railway fer so long ah lost count."

"Well we're hoping to change that," she replied. "We're heading towards the mountains to the North and we would like you to take us there, as far as you're able."

Trailmon looked over his-for lack of a better word-'shoulder' back at them. "Ah'yep? The Frozen Peaks ain't exactly a boomtown, little missy. What business do ya'll have up there?"

"If you'll take us up there," Renamon answered with a touch of coyness in her voice "We'll gladly tell you."

"Well, shoot," Trailmon said with another laugh "Who could say 'no' to a purtty little face like that? Climb aboard." A door on Trailmon's side first hissed and then slid open revealing an inside that looked just as normal as any train he had ever seen. "The name's Tex, by the way."

Renamon introduced herself and then waited for Andrew to do the same. When he tried to talk, he found he couldn't get his voice to do anything more than a small croak. Renamon then used that hand on his back to give him one quick, but light swat.

"Andrew," he managed to spit out. "Andrew Roth."

"It sure is nice to meet you, little cowpoke. Shoot, it's been years since ah last had passengers, let alone a human one. Makes me wish ah cleaned up a bit first, but don't you worry none. Ol' Tex might be a little rusty round the edges, but he can still ride with the best of 'em!"

Using her hand to guide Andrew like a small child, Renamon lead him inside of Trailmon Tex, the talking train. She sat down in one of the seats, Andrew plopped down next to her, and the doors slid shut.

"All aboard," Trailmon called his voice just as clear from inside the cab as it was out. "Next stop: the Frozen Peaks! Ye-haw!"  
Trailmon gave one jerk that would have sent both Andrew and Renamon to the floor if they both hadn't clutched onto the seat, and then they started to head out of the station; slowly at first, but gaining speed.

Looking out the window behind where he sat, Andrew watched the old, dusty station pull away from them. For better or worse, they were riding the rails.

** To be continued.**


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven **

Andrew looked out from the slightly grubby window as the world flew past them, and unless Andrew really focused his eyes on one object then it all slid past in a series of brown and green blurs. The nervousness he had felt upon first discovering that Trailmon was, in fact, the train itself was now fading. Part of the reason was Renamon, who was sitting next to him with her arms crossed, her eyes closed, and her head down; looking perfectly at ease. He knew that Renamon would never purposely put him in any kind of danger unless there was no other choice, and even then she tried to keep him as far out of the line of fire as possible. Besides, when Andrew really thought about it, this was no different than when they crossed the water to find the home of the Digital Elder; of course riding inside the mouth of a giant talking whale was weirder than riding inside of a giant talking train, but not by much.

The train might have been a little dirty around the outside, but inside was a completely different story: the light grey carpet was clean and well kept. The seats they were now resting on faced towards the middle aisle with their backs against the walls and ran from the front to the back, broken only by the occasional armrest. Andrew had never been inside of a train back in his world, but if they were even half as nice as this, than it was a habit he was going to have to start getting in to.

The interior wasn't the only thing that Andrew found impressive, but also the speed at which they were traveling and how smooth Trailmon ran it. There had been that first bad jerk when they pulled out of the station that almost sent the boy spilling out of seat, but since then it had been like they were floating along the tracks after Trailmon got moving again. He guessed it was a lot like getting out of bed in the morning before a big day; you had to stretch some muscles and pop some bones before the body could really get moving, which had Andrew wondering: just how long had it been since this line of track had last carried passengers? The station had been in near ruins, just a few good storms and it was likely to collapse into dust. How long had Trailmon been sitting there, alone, waiting for passengers that might never come? It was an upsetting thought that made the hair on Andrew's neck want to stand up.

"Trailmon?" he spoke up, wondering if he could even be heard from inside the cabin.

"What can I do ya fer, little trail hand?" Trailmon responded, answering that question. "And ya'll can just go ahead and call me Tex. I like the ring of that more."

"Oh, alright. Tex, you said that it's been awhile since you last carried passengers, right? How long was it?"

There was a moment of silence while Trailmon, or Tex rather, tried to count the time, "Reckon I can't remember. It's been a good many years since ah last made this run, ah can tell ya that much, but as for exactly how long? Can't say."

"Why didn't you just leave, then?" Andrew questioned. "You must have been so lonely there."

"Ol' Tex here never abandons his post," he said with some pride. "Ah knew one day the people'll start comin' back, and it looks like ah was right. Besides, I had mah dreams to keep me company, so don't go worrin' bout me, son, though Ol' Tex thanks ya fer yer concern."

"What was in the Frozen Peaks to begin with?" This was Renamon, speaking for the first time since they had first stepped on the train. Her eyes were still closed and her head was still down. Whether she had been sleeping before was a mystery, but in any case she was awake now.

"Glad you asked, ma'am. Ya see, a long time ago someone found digimite up in the hills there. Don't suppose either of you know what that is, do ya?"

"Sorry, no," Renamon said, answering for both of them.

"Well, I won't bore ya with the details, mainly cause I don't know em mah-self!" Tex laughed at his on joke, a carefree sound of someone without a worry in the world. Andrew envied that. "Basically it's a very rare and precious metal that has just all the colors of the rainbow inside, iffin ya look at it though a strong light. There were stories that went around saying that digimite had some kind'a mystic power to it, but as fer exactly what, ah don't know. Some say that it increased a Digimon's powers ten fold, others say that it could allow a feller to Digivole at will, but if you ask me that's all just a bunch'a hooy."

Glancing over at Renamon, Andrew saw that her face as just as calm and indifferent as ever, but she had perked up a little upon hearing that. Even if it all was just stories and rumors Andrew was willing to bet she found the whole idea very interesting. Andrew, however, thought it terrifying. If this stuff really did do what it was rumored to, and if the Dark Lord got his hands on it...

"So then what happened?" Renamon asked, her tone just as calm as her appearance.

"Well, for a good long while I was makin' this run up and down the line bringing with me all kinds of folks lookin' for their fortunes, not sure if any did, but that's a different story. So anyway; for awhile things were goin' pretty good and the hills were filled with mining tunnels, but then the accidents started to happen."

Andrew raised an eyebrow, suddenly becoming much more invested in this story, and what might be lying ahead for them. "Accidents?"

"Ah-yep. Folks started to hear noises echoing from deep inside the cave, real spooky 'not-of-this-world' kinda stuff. Stuff would mysteriously vanish then reappear somewhere else, cave-ins started to occur-"

"Cave-ins?" Andrew was really getting worried now.

"Ah-yep," Tex continued on, oblivious to the boy's concern. "No one ever got hurt in em, ya keen, but it got everybody talkin'. Rumors started to go around about some kinda evil spirit bein' released durin' all the work and it was takin' its revenge on the miners. Then the stories started going around about people actually seeing this spirit; a big nasty thing with glowing red eyes and sharp teeth dripping with poison."

Andrew swallowed, hard. This throat suddenly felt very dry. "Do-do you think that stuff true?"

"Relax," Renamon said. "Digimon like to talk big; one trying to top the story of the next."

"I got to agree with yer friend there, lil' cowpoke. Real or not, though, people started to leave the Frozen Peaks right quick. Soon I was takin more folks back than I was up and the wave of Digimon comin' in slowed down to a trickle, then stopped all together. Since then it's just been Ol' Tex sittin' and waitin', dreamin' his dreams."

The room went silent for a bit, and Andrew began to wonder if there really was any truth to this 'vengeful spirit' tale. Renamon didn't seem worried about any such thing, and neither did Trailmon for that matter, but Andrew still wasn't sure. He knew very little about this world and everything that he had seen challenged his ideas of what could and could not be, certainly anything was possible else in this land where the impossible became the mundane; anything at all.

"So now," Tex said, breaking the short silence. "You got to have your questions, mind if I ask mine?"

"Go right ahead," Renamon invited.

"What brings you two up this way? Lookin' to make your own fortunes, eh? Hoping to find some of that digimite?"

"Actully," Renamon corrected, "I'm starting to think our goal is quite the opposite." She then turned towards Andrew and opened her eyes so that those blue marbles were looking directly into his. He was once again amazed by those eyes and the power he saw behind them. For one strange second he felt something inside of him flutter up and then disappear as quickly as it came leaving the boy to feel peculiar and slightly confused. "I think we need to keep the digimite hidden."

**O O O**

Seeing everything fly by them in the blur of colors was making her sick. Looking out the windows made her head pound and her stomach lurch, but since there were windows up and down the side of the car you were forced to look outside no matter where you sat. Closing her eyes gave her some relief from the aches, but she would look rather stupid sitting there with her eyes shut. Renamon hoped that by lowering hear head and keeping her arms loosely crossed, she would look like she was sleeping. The last thing in the world she wanted was for Andrew to think she had motion sickness, but there was just something about seeing everything flash by sideways rather than straight on that just screwed with her head.

Feeling her stomach give another lurch, Renamon tried to clear her mind, so she listed to the faint sound of the wind rushing by and the steady 'click-click, click-click' of the rails beneath them; a noise oddly soothing and almost hypnotic. If she wasn't careful, she really would fall asleep.

About that time was when Andrew began to ask questions of Trailmon. The boy seemed a little nervous about getting inside of Tex, and she couldn't really blame him, but she knew that his natural curiosity would kick in sooner or later and he would start enjoying himself, or at least tolerating it.

She listened to the story with some interest, only really getting involved when Tex told them of what digimite could supposedly do. She was just as positive as he was about those tales being nothing more than that: just tales, yet she couldn't help fantasize about what she could do with such an item.

_With something like that I really could be powerful. I wouldn't need Andrew at all, _a part of her said, but it was the old part of her, the one that existed before the boy had come into her life. That was the part that always was and always would be a loner, looking at the rest of the world from inside its private fort, but that wasn't who she really was anymore. She liked Andrew, she really did; and there was something about digivolving into Kyubimon because of the boy that felt... right, though she couldn't name exactly why.

'Wise beyond their years' was a term used all too loosely it seemed, yet it fit Andrew very well. He was mature and clear headed when things became 'heavy' as he put it. That was something many his age weren't capable of, however these traits were born out of tragedy and necessity. Andrew had to learn to take care of himself, but he was still a kid underneath it all.

If ever there was a better example of how his real age could sometimes sneak out, it was while Tex was busy telling them stories of this so called spirit inside the Frozen Peak mines. Renamon could tell Andrew was listening to him with the same attention that a child would listen to a ghost story around a campfire. Renamon did her best to reassure the boy that all they were hearing were stories, and it seemed to work a little, however she was still upset with Trailmon for putting such ideas into his head. At least now they had some sort of goal to head towards, however vague, and anything was better than stumbling around blind.

"Renamon, look," Andrew said, nudging her shoulder with his elbow.

She frowned, not wanting to open her eyes. Her guts had finally started to calm and if she looked they were going to start up again, but it wasn't like she had much of a choice; it was either look or act like she was dead.

Cracking opening her eyes she first saw Andrew turned around in his seat; face pressed close to the window behind them. Renamon turned and looked over her shoulder and saw what Andrew was pointing out: the forest was gone and rapidly falling away behind them. They were now officially in the Frozen Peaks.

Now that the trees whipping by them at high speeds had been replaced by the sloping hills, she found it was much easier to look at the scenery. They had yet to really get into the mountains, the area around them was really nothing more than a series of hills, but they were only spotted with a few trees. They were mostly surrounded by wide open grass lands and ahead the mountains loomed closer than ever. Now that she could really see the size of some of them, she began to hope that their goal wasn't resting on top of one of these monstrosities, or else they were going to be in some real trouble.

There was something odd about leaving the forest where she had practically spent her whole life in. It was an almost endless sea of foliage where she had lived, fought, and grown. The woods held everything she could have ever needed: food, water, and Digimon to fight. Up until now she had no reason to ever leave, being outside of its denseness left her feeling a bit exposed and unsure of herself. She had little knowledge of the world outside of the trees, yet despite how worried she was there was also a part of her that was a little excited to see what was out there. She hadn't realized until meeting Andrew just how dull her life had become. She moved though the motions of day to day life, but without really much of a purpose. Before she kept fooling herself that there was nothing for her except power, that strength was all she needed to have, but now that she had someone to protect; someone that she could honestly call a friend, she could see how stupid and blind she had probably been.

They continued moving on, covering ground in mere minutes that would have taken hours on foot and since time wasn't exactly on their side, every lost second they could make up for was well worth it.

They had been gradually making their way upwards for some time now. There was the occasional chatter between the three of them, but they mostly traveled in silence. Tex was busy pulling them along, Andrew was watching this world pass by outside of the windows, and Renamon was trying to map out their next moves from here.

None of them were expecting what happened next.

Trailmon's voice came over the intercom system that allowed them to hear him from inside the cab. All of the good nature was gone from his voice, replaced by surprise.

"Hold on, now!" he cried and less than a moment later there came bellowing from beneath them a high pitch squeal of metal being forced against metal. Renamon was thrown to the ground as Trailmon applied his emergency breaks. There was a horrible second when she was sure they were going to derail or crash, but soon enough they slowed to a stop.

She pushed herself to her feet and saw Andrew across from her doing the same. "You alright?" she asked.

"Yeah. Fine."

"Sorry bout the sudden stop there folks, but ya'll might wanna step outside and take a look at this," Tex called down to them.

The doors to either side of them slid open again. Andrew looked over to Renamon, and seemed to ask with his eyes if they really had to go out there. She shrugged in response and made her way outside.

The first thing she noticed was the serious temperature drop. Back down in the forest it was warm enough to work up a sweat without even trying, but up here; well, she was never so glad for her fur. Andrew stepped out behind her, gave a small cry of surprise at the chill in the air, and crossed his arms over his chest keeping his hands buried in his armpits.

"Whoa, when did it get so cold?" he mumbled in complaint.

"Tex," she said, ignoring Andrew for the time being, "why did we stop?"

"Take a look up ahead and you'll see."

The two made their way around to the front of Trailmon and gazed down the track. There was no need for further questions. Less than a few feet away the tracks cut through the mountain and into a tunnel, or at least they would have. Now that tunnel was gone, replaced by fallen rubble and rock. For all intents and purposes the track now basically dead ended into rock. If Trailmon hadn't of slammed on the breaks when he did, well, it wouldn't have been the kind of accident you walked away from.

"Cave in," Andrew said in a voice just above a whisper; and Renamon knew exactly what the boy was thinking about, making her want to clobber Tex once again for putting those thoughts into his head.

"Just an old tunnel," she replied. "It was bound to happen sooner or later. No one has been up this way in years, after all."

"Sorry to do this to you folks," Tex said from close behind "But ah'm afraid ah'm gonna have to let ya'll out here. Ain't no way I'm gettin' though this mess."

Renamon nodded as she turned around. It sucked to lose their fast and warm transport, but whatever they needed to see was still up ahead; so unless Trailmon could sprout wings in the next few seconds, they were hoofing it once again.

"We understand. Thank you for taking us this far," Renamon said with a grateful nod.

Tex smiled back at her, but Renamon swore she saw a sad glint in his eye. "Weren't no problem, ma'am. Ah'm just sorry ah couldn't take ya all the way to the top, but if mah memory is servin' me right, there should be a foot trail not too far from here. Won't be as nice as ridin the rails, ya keen, but then again not much is."

"What are you going to do now, Tex?" the boy asked.

Trailmon took in a deep breath and slowly let it out, letting his eyes wander off to one side as he did so. "Well, guess ah'll go see the sights now that ah can't make the Frozen Peak run no more. There's still a lot out there, little cowpoke, and my tracks run both ways."

Renamon looked deeping into Trailmon's eyes, past his kind words and bright smile, and realized something: he was lying. The ride to these mountains was all that he had ever known and loved, and she could understand why. The air up here was brisk and clean and you could see for miles all alright; it was truly a beautiful sight to behold. After the miners stopped coming, Trailmon had put himself to sleep, waiting for the day when he could carry just one more passenger up the hills, but now that he had done so and seen where the tracks ended, that he would never be able to really make his beloved run again…

Trailmon's eyes met hers and although his tone was light and his face was kind, she saw his real thoughts in those eyes. He knew that she knew and his eyes said to her that he had made up his mind long ago and there was no changing it, and if she had any kind of heart whatsoever, she would keep her mouth shut for the kid's sake.

She gave just the faintest hint of a nod to say she understood, one which Tex must have picked up on because he turned his attention back to Andrew.

It hurt her to keep quiet, but there was nothing she could do. Anything she could try and say would only meet with resistance and upset Andrew, who now seemed to have taken a liking to Tex. That only made it harder.

"Now," Trailmon said with all his false good humor, "you two best be hittin' the dusty trail; ol' Tex is gonna get back on his way. Got's me a lot of miles ahead, ah reckon."

Andrew smiled; an innocent look that said he didn't suspect a thing. "Thanks for everything, Tex. It was great meeting you."

"Feeling's mutual, son. Thanks for givin' an old hunk of metal one more hurrah."

"Goodbye Tex," she said.

"Adios, ma'am. Be sure to keep yer wits about you, and keep an eye on that little hombre, ya hear?"

The two took several steps back away from the rails as Trailmon slowly began to reverse down the track. Renamon and Andrew waved as he started to go behind the bend and he returned the gesture with one long and loud toot from his whistle. A moment later he had disappeared completely around the slope, but the two stood and watched until even the sounds of his engine had faded away completely from their ears.

With a heavy heart, Renamon nudged Andrew towards the area where there was supposed to be a foot trail waiting for them. It was cold out and night would be upon them eventually; best they found what they needed before it came on and dropped the temperature more. Still, as they walked away from the tracks Renamon couldn't help but give one last look over her shoulder.

_We've killed him_, she thought. _Another victim on our quest to put an end to this Dark Lord. Two innocents and one evil; so far I think we're doing more harm than good._

And there was still so much more left ahead.

**To be continued.**


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve **

What had started off as a gentle snowfall quickly began to escalate. The sky had grown dark and grey, the wind began to pick up giving off a low howl, and the already freezing temperature continued to drop; all without any signs of stopping. Renamon began to fear if they did not find some kind of shelter soon then they would be left blinded, not that there was much to see.

The path Andrew and she had taken wound them through the mountains, often their view was blocked by the sharp rock faces that ran along either side of them and even when she was able to catch a glimpse of their territory there was nothing to see except for more rocks and a few splotches of evergreens dotted around vast emptiness. Unlike the forest, Renamon was coming to find, there was no place to just 'hunker down' and wait out the weather, and even if there was there was, they still the cold to contend with. Renamon had a thick layer of fur covering her entire body and that was just barley enough, Andrew had nothing to keep him warm but the clothes on his back, and thin clothes they were.

The boy had his arms crossed tightly against his chest and was vigorously rubbing his hands up and down his upper arms, occasionally stopping long enough to cup them in front of his mouth and breath into them. Renamon had wrapped one arm around the boy's waist and pulled him close, trying to share some of her own body heat and at the same keeping them from being separated. The snow wasn't blinding yet, but given enough time they would be lucky to see an inch in front of their faces and with the terrain as rocky as it was, the risk of stepping into a hole and snapping an ankle or simply slipping off a tall ledge was far too great to risk. If there was to be any hope for the two of them, they needed to find someplace to make shelter soon.

"Holding up okay?" she asked, all the while scanning the area around them looking for anyplace they could go.

"Y-yeah. Fu-fine," he stuttered through his chattering teeth "You?"

"Don't worry," she said. "I'm going to get us out of this weather, can you hold on a little longer?"

"Yeah. S-sure."

For a moment Renamon played with the idea of letting him climb up onto her back and she would race them across the Frozen Peaks, but she was too unfamiliar with this place; one overzealous jump and she could send the two of them sailing clear off the side of some unseen ledge. The cold would be the last of their worries if they were lying broken at the bottom of some valley.

_You should have prepared better for this trek, stupid_, a bitter little voice in her head mocked, seeming to take pleasure in her pain. _You're lost in some unknown land miles from home, you have no food, and Andrew's freezing to death. What kind of Partner are you, anyway? How have you even survived this long? You should have just let the kid die in the woods; it certainly would have been more humane then slowly turning into a Popsicle._

"Renam-mon, look at that," Andrew spoke up and pointed ahead of them and a little to the left side.

Following his line of sight Renamon noticed something that she should have seen long before Andrew. She had become so lost in her own self-pity that she was just moving though the world around them rather then actually paying attention to it. Thankfully Andrew had kept his wits about him despite the numbing cold and saw what might very well be their salvation.

_So that makes, what, the third time the little human boy has seen something you've missed,_ that mean little voice of doubt said. _Seriously, how are you even still alive? How did you make it this far if you're so blind?_

_Shut up,_ She shot back, and was grateful when there was no reply.

The two drew in closer towards the thing that Andrew had seen, but as for what it was, Renamon couldn't say although Andrew looked pretty happy about it. Cocking her head to one side, she studied the device in front of her piece by piece, trying to get what made it so great. There was a large flat base under which sat four small wheels in each corner. The wheels rested on a set of tracks that were similar to the ones they followed towards Trailmon, the only difference was that these tracks were slightly smaller and had two beams sitting on the edges of the struts rather then one moving down the center. Above the wheels and base sat a metal crate from which a poll extended up, and attached on to this vertical poll was another one with handles that ran horizontal along the length of the base stopping just a little short of both edges.

Renamon took in the vehicle, if that's even what it was, trying to make sense of it all. To her it looked like some kind of half finished project left behind, and there was certainly enough snow and rust on it to confirm her thoughts.

"Okay," she said. "So... what is it?"

Andrew looked up at her with an expression on is face that seemed to question if she was serious. "It's a handcart. You've n-never seen one before?" he asked, to which Renamon shook her head. "Here, j-jump on. Let's see if this thing still works."

Andrew stepped up onto the one end of the cart. He reached out and touched the handles before suddenly taking a deep, hissing gust of air though his teeth and pulling his hands away. Renamon instantly tensed up, expecting some kind of booby-trap.

"It's cold," he said, almost apologetically and began to breathe into his hands once more. Relaxing, Renamon made her way to the other end of the cart. Unlike Andrew, she touched her set of handles for only a few seconds to test them. When she decided that her fur would keep her palms warm enough, she took hold and waited for Andrew to tell her what to do. Right now he was the only one with the plan, best to leave to show up to him in this case.

"Alright," he said taking hold of the handlebars once again, only a little more carefully this time. "I'm going to push down on my end and when your half is raised up as high as it can, you push down and we repeat. Got it?"

"Oh, I think I can remember," she grinned.

"Okay, here we go!"

Andrew pushed down on his half of the handle… and caused nothing to happen. Neither the cart nor the pipe they both held moved and inch.

"Um... lemme try again," he said and this time threw all of his weigh down on the handle and succeeded only in lifting himself off the cart, causing Renamon to chuckle, despite of herself.

"I think the cart's, um, frozen."

"Look's like it," She said. "I'll tell you what, strongman, how's about I push and you pull?"

"Worth a shot, I guess…" Andrew murmured.

Renamon interlaced her fingers and stretched her arms out in front of her so her palms where facing towards Andrew, then stretched them up and over her head, showing off a little before putting her hands back on the bars and pushing down with all her might. At first the pipe wouldn't give and inch, and Renamon started to worry that this handcart had frozen solid when there came a sudden series of sounds from underneath the cart like shattering ice, and then her end of the handlebars went down, Andrews went up, and they were moving; slowly at first, but with each pump they began to pick up speed. Glancing up at Andrew, she saw that his face was positively beaming.

"Good job, Rookie," she called to him "Now what?"

"Now," he called back, "we follow these tracks wherever they lead us. If my guess is right, these were probably built to move people and tools quickly in and out of the mines. All we have to do is then is hold up inside whatever cave we end up in until the storm blows over."

"Not a bad idea," she said, honestly impressed with his ingenuity. "But are you sure that's where we're going to end up?"

"Not at all," Andrew answered. "But I'm cold and willing to try anything to get warm again."

Renamon rolled her eyes. It was a heavy gamble, but at least Andrew had some sort of plan; which was better than her idea of just aimlessly following the long forgotten path. They had already gotten the cart moving again and seemed to have hit a steady speed. Nothing to do now but keep on moving and hope the tracks were still in working order.

At first the tracks almost ran perfectly along with the path they had taken; Renamon facing forwards toward where they were going, and Andrew facing backwards looking at where they had been, and both of them starting to work up a sweat. She knew they would have to make sure to be careful when they came to a stop or else the action that was now keeping them warm would soon cause them to freeze to death.

Soon the tracks began to branch away from their path, just slightly at first, however it wasn't long before they were just about traveling in almost a compete right angle from the road they had been on. Renamon didn't feel too comfortable leaving their footpath behind. If something were to go wrong with the tracks or with the cart it's self, they were going to be in for a long walk back. Yet of whatever reason (maybe luck or maybe fate) the handcart took them exactly where Andrew guessed it would.

The trip itself was relatively short, lasting only a few minutes, but between the snow and biting wind the time felt to stretch on for hours before they came around the final bend and the tracks disappeared into a cave either dug or blown into the side of one mountain. When she told Andrew to turn around and take a look, he gave a brief cry of triumph before turning his pumping. Good thing they had reached a safe place as soon as they did, Renamon could see the sweat rolling down Andrew's face and hear the deep breaths he was taking. The boy might have been a clever one when he needed to be, but he didn't seem to be much for physical labor.

_I'm going to have to toughen him up,_ she thought, enjoying the idea.

They slowed the cart to a stop at the mouth of the cave. From here she could see some burnt out lights strung along both sides of the cave, but whatever source had been powering them had long since died out leaving them with just a hole leading into utter blackness.

Andrew shifted back and forth on his feet slightly, as his arms once again crossed over his chest as the wind blew the snow around them so hard it was almost moving sideways.

"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea," he suggested "Let's get back in the cart, huh?"

Renamon shook her head "Not a chance. The storm's getting worse than ever. We'd never make it back to the road before being completely blinded. Even if we did, we're both tired and cold. At least in here we'll be out of the wind."

Her tone was flat and stated that her word was the final one. The harsh winds and freezing temperatures had most likely made the boy forget all about the ghost stories he had been told, or at least pushed them far back into his mind, but now that he was standing right here at the mouth of the cave, he seemed to be having second thoughts, ones that she had no intent on entertaining.

"Its pitch black in there," Andrew was still trying to protest, but the insincerity in his voice said that he already knew he lost. "How are we going to see anything? For all we know this cave could end in a fifty foot drop."

"Maybe," she said. "But that's why you've got me."

Renamon raised her right hand before her and closed it into a fist. Very slowly, she took in a deep breath; the chilly air filling her lungs and burning her nose. She held in this breath for several moments, focusing only on her closed fist before forcing out that breath through her nose in one soft 'woosh'. At the same instant her paw lit up in a blue flame that burned strong and bright, much like the one Andrew had saw during the fight with Datamon, despite the wind.

Andrew's face wore an expression of both shock and admiration. "Wow. I didn't know you could control that at will."

"There's a lot about me you don't know. Stick around for awhile and maybe you'll learn more."

The two started into the mineshaft, the flame from Renamon's paw providing them with enough light to confidently move forward. If there was something haunting these caves than it better watch out; Renamon was here.

**O O O**

They made their way deeper into the cave, Renamon's fire casting an odd blue-tinted light over the walls around them. As they walked they would occasionally come across remnants of a time long ago when these shafts must have been bustling with miners, all working for their chance to hit the big strike: a shovel with a missing handle, a pickaxe still half buried into the wall of the cave, a miner's helmet with its light missing. Mostly what they saw was a lot of interesting, but useless piles of rusted junk, at least until they came across an overturned mine cart; the same kind that one would fill with their day's finding and then push in and out of the mine.

Renamon carefully ran her free hand over its splintered wood side.

"It's dry," she said. "And I think this is as good of a spot as any to camp."

Andrew nodded. They had moved far from the mouth of the cave to get away from the snow, and he thought it was a little warmer here, but that might have just been getting out of the bitter wind that made him believe that. Whatever the case, she was right; this was as good of a place as any.

Renamon motioned towards the wood card with her head. "Help me break this thing down so I don't have to put out our light."

Placing both his hands around the top plank next to the one Renamon could spare, they both began to pull. The wood gave a tiny creek as if in resistance before snapping off. They repeated this process several times until they had collected a nice pile of timber which Andrew arranged and Renamon ignited using the flame from her right hand.

For a short time the fire actually kept the bluish tint, but by the time it developed into something large enough to provide adequate heat and warmth the standard red and orange colors had returned and taken over.

_Shame,_ Andrew thought. _A blue fire would have been cool._

Just as she had earlier on the path, Renamon sat down next to Andrew using her body to warm his with her arm around her shoulder and her puffy tail wrapped loosely about his stoamch. Andrew found this a little embarrassing, though he wasn't quite sure why, but said nothing. He was just thankful that she was trying.

"We're going to have to find you something warm to wear," she said.

"Unless they've opened up mountain top shopping malls I think we're out of luck."

"We'll figure something out. Maybe we can even find something in this cave to use, who knows?"

"Maybe," he said, suddenly feeling very tried. The slow trek though the snow mixed with pushing the rusty handcart had taken a lot out of him. Right then he wanted nothing more than to close his eyes for a few minutes.

Andrew's head began to feel too heavy to hold up on his own. Without really thinking, he rested it upon Renamon's shoulder, half expecting her to shrug him off, but instead she tightened her grip around him, even her tail, wrapped around his cold skin to help keep him warm, seemed to squeeze a little. Andrew was surprised by her gesture, but also so grateful. The cold he felt around his bones began to thaw as a new heat seemed to fill him in a strangely pleasant way. Several minutes later he began to doze.

Renamon's body jerked as if taken by surprise, snapping Andrew awake, but not in time to catch his balance. As Andrew thudded onto the stone floor, Renamon was leaping to her feet, trying to look in every direction at once. Andrew thought he had only shut his eyes for a second, but when he saw how low the fire had burned it was obvious it had been much longer than that.

"Renamon, what is it? What do you h-"

Andrew was pushing himself back up to his feet as he was talking, but both actions were cut short by a deep, disturbing moan that resonated from father down the cave. It started low at first, and then rose to such a high level that Andrew had to cover his ears. Another moan quickly followed the first this time accompanied by rattling chains.

It was the ghosts; the ones that had driven out the Digimon who worked these mines years ago. They had awakened again, and they sounded angry. He had tried to think of them as just a story, like Renamon said they were, but now...

He moved in closer to his friend. She never flinched; her face showed not a drop of fear as her cold blue eyes stared into the darkness.

Andrew thought he heard an odd 'twang' sound just underneath the moans as something came flying out of the darkness. Andrew had just enough time to register it as a bucket before it hit the ground at their feet, the years of cold causing the plastic to shatter upon impact.

Renamon seemed to take this as some kind of signal. "Stay here," she said before darting deeper into the cave, towards the sounds. Andrew tried to call after her, to tell her to stop, but she didn't listen. Instead her just yelled at him to 'stay there' once again and then was gone, swallowed up by the black.

Andrew remained where he was, feet planted to the floor and ears open. Becoming all too aware of the dark and cold, Andrew quickly scooped up a handful of leftover wood and absently threw it on the fire. From somewhere beyond the blackness the moans suddenly cut off and was just as quickly replaced by the sounds of a scuffle. He heard Renamon's voice, but was unable to make out the exact words. Either way, she sounded angry, but not in trouble. There came another 'twang' and then something smashing. Renamon cried out again, and this time he thought he could make out the words 'you little'.

The noises of feet shuffling against the stone floor and things breaking lasted for several more seconds. Just as Andrew was working up the courage to run down there himself to help, they stopped. In their place he could hear footsteps making their way towards their camp in a slow, almost leisurely pace. He then heard a new voice; high and gruff, but very similar to the now shushed moans.

"Down!" it said. "Put down! Want down! Down! Down! Down!"

Strolling out of the darkness was Renamon. In one hand she was holding a Digimon that looked like a small monkey by the scruff of its neck while it tried to thrash its way free. It its body was covered with green fur expert for its face and stomach, underneath his eyes were two lines of what looked to Andrew like red war paint. It wore a yellow leopard-print cloth over one shoulder which draped down to its feet and a pair of brown gloves. The Digimon's hair (if you even could call it hair) was up in a wild ponytail by thin rope. In her other hand Renamon was holding a comically oversized slingshot.

"Down!" The green monkey kept chanting like a child having a tantrum. "Down! Down! Down!"

"Shut up," Renamon said in that icy tone of her that sometimes even gave Andrew the chills. All at once the creature shut its mouth, but crossed his arms over his chest and pouted to show his disapproval. Renamon seemed to ignore this, instead turning his attention to Andrew.

"Here's your ghost, Rookie." She said. "Bet you didn't think they looked like this."

"You mean all of that noise was just... this little thing?" he gaped.

"Not little!" It shouted back at him in protest.

"Shut up," Renamon repeated, looking back to the creature. "You scared my friend here, and I think you owe him an apology."

Andrew lowered his head and blushed slightly. "I wasn't _that_ scared," he said under his breath, sound a bit like a child himself.

The little monkey, however, only gave a prissy grunt and kept his mouth shut.

"Do it," Renamon said as she dropped the slingshot to the ground and raised one fist up to its face. The monkey looked at the clenched fist, seeming to weigh its options.

"Sorry," it grunted.

"It's okay," Andrew said. "So, um, what's your name?"

"Koemon!"

"Koemon?"

"Koemon," it confirmed.

"So what's the big idea making all those noises?" Renamon pressed.

"Make you leave," Koemon answered, his voice firm. "Digimon come. Dig caves. Blow holes. Want all Digimite for themselves. Almost destroy Koemon Villiage!"

"You mean you live in these caves?" Andrew asked.

"Not in caves, _beyond_ caves. We thought we safe at last, but then you come! You no have more digimite! Is useless! Is ours!"

"Woah, woah, calm down," Andrew said, raising his hands up to the green monkey. "We're not here to take anything."

"N-not want Digimite?" Koemon asked, sounding like he wasn't quite sure if he believed that.

Andrew shook his head. "Not to take, no. Renamon, put him down."  
She raised an eyebrow at him and he nodded to say she heard him right. Renamon rolled her eyes and dropped Koemon back down to the floor, but she seemed to be ready to snatch him up again if he made a run for it, but the Digimon only dusted himself off and took his slingshot back.

Andrew got down on one knee to be face-to-face with Koemon, thinking about how nice it was to finally be speaking with a Digimon that wasn't at least a foot taller than he was.

"Koemon," he said, "I promise we're not here to take even one piece of digimite, but there are people coming who are going to try and take it. My friend and I are here to stop them, and if there's any way you can help us we'd be very grateful."

The monkey looked him up and down; his expression was not exactly distrustful, but still very curious. "Who you?" he asked.

"My name's Andrew and that's Renamon. I'm the... well, I'm what they called a '_DigiDestined__'_."

Andrew still hadn't gotten used to the idea that he was supposed to be some kind of hero. He sure didn't feel very special. While Andrew didn't knew exactly who had come before him wearing the same title of DigiDestined, but he often imagined them to be very brave and strong children; full of confidence and purity. In short; nothing that he was. There was a part of him that to this day was still sure that this was a mistake.

Koemon just looked at him with a confused stare. "No know that word. Does it mean human? You human? You Cree?"

Now Renamon was the one who spoke up. "How do you know about humans?" she asked.

Koemon closed his eyes and smiled a big grin. It was a little goofy looking, but as far as Andrew could tell there was no malice behind it.

"I take you!" Koemon said. "Take you to Koemon Village! You see village! You see Cree! Come! Follow!"

Snatching a piece of wood from the fire and holding it before him like a torch, Koemon took a few quick, excited steps back the way he had been dragged from before stopping and looking over shoulder at them.

"Come!" He repeated and was then off again.

Renamon and Andrew looked at one another, shrugged, and then followed.

**O O O**

The mine turned out to be more like a labyrinth with tunnels branching off left and right every few steps, yet Koemon never slowed his stride. Taking turns with no hesitation the little monkey lead them deeper into the mines. Andrew began to wonder if this was some kind of trap. If Koemon did decide to leave them here, it would be a long time before they found their way out.

_If_ they found their way out.

At first Andrew tried to keep track of the twists and turns in his head just for that reason, but it didn't take long at all of his brain to get tangled up and making him lose all track of where they were. He could only hope Renamon was able to keep a better mental map than he was.

Suddenly Koemon stopped. Before them was a dead-end; nothing but a large bolder blocking the path.

"No further, right?" Koemon said with a smile. "Wrong. Watch."

Using the slingshot he rapped on the bolder three times in rapid succession and then cried out a series of 'eeks' that would have been musical if it wasn't so shrill. Amazingly enough there came two voices on the other side of the boulder crying out the same melody, and then the rock began to move. It started to roll the left in big, slow rotations as a light began to pour though from the opening it was making, and Andrew had to squint his eyes so they could adjust.

When he finally dared to open them up again Andrew saw he was standing at the top of a tall mountain path above a huge open space. Above them thousands upon thousands of yellow stones glowed like a massive sun giving off light and, Andrew suddenly realized, heat. It was like stepping into a warm summer's day. And below all of this sitting at the bottom of this impossibly warm and sunny room resting a Koemon Village; a collection of a dozen or so huts of various sizes all build around a small pound. The word 'oasis' popped into Andrew's mind, it certainly felt like the right term for such a place.

"Welcome!" Koemon announced. "Come! See Cree!"

Koemon took a hold of Andrew's hand and enthusiastically began to pull him through the opening and down the path past the boulder and the other two Koemons on the other side which, Andrew guessed, where the ones who had opened the way for them.

Having to almost run to keep up, Andrew (with Renamon close behind) was lead down the road and then through the village where the Koemon stopped in the middle of their daily lives to stare at the newcomers.

He was quickly lead to one particular hut that sat near the middle of the town and then stepped aside. This hut was much bigger than the others, almost seeming gigantic compared to those around it even though it was actually fairly normal in scale for Andrew's use.

"Go in! Meet Cree!" Koemon urged.

Andrew stepped through the door (with was nothing more than several palm levels draped over an opening) noticing that this one doorway was also taller than those on any of the other huts.

As they entered the other side Andrew was stuck by what he saw. He wasn't sure what he was expecting the inside of these homes to look like, but it wasn't this. What he was looking at reminded him of his school's science lab. It had a lot of the same equipment only instead of glass and metal, it was all made of stone and wood. Covering the walls were dozens of pieces of paper stuck in by pieces of sticks like pushpins. Many of the papers seemed to be notes or blueprints, but the handwriting was so atrocious that Andrew couldn't read them.

"What the heck is this place?" Renamon asked as she studied the papers. Andrew opened his mouth to answer, but found he couldn't even start to explain since he had no idea himself.

"Hello?" A voice called from the other room. "Yes, is someone there?"

Andrew noticed that this voice was very different from any of the Koemon he had heard talking as they were lead to this hut. For instance this voice sounded a bit, well, nasally, as well as able to speak complete sentences. Andrew, who had also been busy trying to decipher the papers on the wall, turned to see someone step into the room with them.

This person was tall and thin.

This person was_ human_.

**To be continued.**


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

A feminine figured dressed in black strolled along the decaying castle's main hall, her long white hair flowing behind her alongside her torn, black wings. Beneath her feet was a shabby rug that may have one time been a rich, luxurious red but had long since faded to the color of dried blood. Torches burned along the walls, but provided very little light as if the very evil of the castle was swallowing it whole, and every few feet there hung paintings, each depicting a disturbing scene of violence and horror.

She pushed open the massive double doors and stepped into the throne room. Dropping down on one knee, she bowed before her lord.

"We have received word form Minotarumon, my love," she said; her words as soft and sweet as melted chocolate, but the mouth these words came from held a very wicked smile. "He has reached the Frozen Peaks. It will not be long before he has reached the Digimite deposits."

"Good. Very good," her lord replied, pleased by the news.

For a moment she was tempted to stop right there and drink her praise, but if her sources where correct, and should things go wrong and it was discovered that she had purposely held back information... her punishment was something even her twisted mind didn't want to think about.

"However," she continued knowing that she must pick her next words carefully. "There is one other matter."

"What?" The Dark Lord asked, a slight edge of irritation creeping into his voice.

"It appears that a Trailmon was seen heading up towards the Frozen Peaks as well. With passengers."

"The boy," he hissed.

"That has yet to be confirmed, but at this time it would appear so."

His hands clutched the armrests of his throne so tightly that they began to crack and splinter. With a cry of pure rage that seemed to shake the very foundation of the castle he threw up his right up and to the right. A bolt of red energy flew from this outstretched arm striking a bookshelf; the impact causing it to blow outwards sending a rain of burning papers fluttering to the floor.

"Feel better?" She teased, doing so only because she knew there would be no direct retaliation against her.

"Follow Minotarumon," The Dark Lord spoke though a clenched jaw. "If the brat and bitch are there make sure he finds them and rips them apart, and then bring me their heads so _I may hang them from my wall as trophies_!"

"Yes, my lord," this woman dressed in black with burned wings said as she rose to her feet. "Anything for you."

**O O O**

Andrew stood where he was, stunned beyond words, and if he had looked over, he would have saw Renamon was sharing his sentiment. Standing before them wearing a long white lab coat, a pair of black slacks, and a faded green sweater was a human man. He looked to be in his mid to late forties. His hair was blond and thin, sticking up wildly from his head; he was very tall and slender with brown eyes that peeked at them from behind a pair of thick glasses. From head to toe this man looked like a living representation of a science geek, but he was here and he was _human_. Andrew didn't think he'd ever been so happy in his life.

"Oh my," The man said, breaking the silence that had fallen over the room. "Oh my, can this really be true?"

The man took several tentative steps closer and leaned forward towards Andrew as if examining him. He took his glasses off his face and peered at the boy for a full five seconds before cleaning the specs on his shirt and popping them back on. Andrew was still amazed, but now he was also becoming a little uncomfortable. He felt like a rat being examined in a cage.

"Tell me son; are you here?" the man asked, sounding almost like he were interviewing Andrew. "Are you really, truly here? My mind is not playing tricks on me, is it?"

"N-no," Andrew finally managed to spit out. "No, I'm here. I'm real. Like... like you. You _are_ human, right?"

"Homo sapien, my friend; one hundred percent. Oh my, but this is marvelous!" he laughed "Incredible! Positively phenomenal! I had come to believe that I was the only human here, but then you came along and, oh! My mind is reeling with the information!"

Renamon leaned over to Andrew raising one hand to cover her mouth as he whispered in his ear. "This guy's giving me the creeps. Are all of you humans that weird?"

"I hope not," He responded with a slow shake of his head.

The man in the lab coat, who had been pacing the room back and forth babbling to himself and often speaking words whose meaning went way over Andrew's head, suddenly stopped and turned to face them so fast he almost lost his balance.

"Oh, but I have been most rude! I am Professor Clayton Creedance," he said with more than a touch of pride in his voice, as if they might have heard of him before. "And you might you be, my new friends?"

"My name's Andrew Roth and this is Renamon."

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance," he said as he closed the distance between them, grabbed hold of Andrew's right hand in both of his and give it several hard, rapid shakes. "And a pleasure to meet you too, ma'am," giving the same handshake. "Might I offer either of you a cup of tea? They may not look it, but the Koemon are quite the gourmets!"

"Maybe later," Renamon said. "First, why don't you tell us exactly how you ended up here?"

"Oh with pleasure; but first come with me into my sitting quarters, it's a far better place to have a chat. This way, if you will."

Prof. Cleedance led them back towards the room he had step out of; a relatively small living space that housed little more than a table surrounded by four stools, a desk overflowing with papers and gadgets, and a hammock woven much like Renamon's. Cleedance took a seat farthest from the door giving his guest the luxury of not having to wade though his piles of junk that scattered every surface of his room. If there was any kind of method to the madness of his filing system, Andrew didn't see it.

"Now then, where to begin," The Professor asked himself once everyone was seated. "Let us just say for the sake of simplicity that it all started five years ago; I was a scientist and part-time college professor. It was in my constant studies that I came upon something most incredible. I discovered that by combining a series of advanced mathematics, transpersonal psychology, and the current particle effects on the theory of a muliverse; the theory that outside of one universe that eclipses all of space and time and matter and energy there lie infinite more, I had stumbled upon an idea of tearing apart the fabrics of-"

"Hey Professor," Renamon broke in. "How about repeating all of that one more time for the slow people?"

"Oh! Yes! Sorry," he apologized, cleaning his glasses on his shirt again "I suppose I do tend to ramble when it comes to my work. It's just that it's been so long since I've been able to sit down and have a full coherent conversation with someone able to string together complete sentences. Now, don't get me wrong; the Koemon are perfectly lovely and as kind and gentle and one could ever hope, but their communicative skills do leave one in wanting-"

"Professor!" he and Renamon shouted in tandem.

"Oh! Sorry, yes. There I go again." A slight blush crossed his cheeks as he absently cleaned his glasses for the third time, making Andrew think it was a nervous tick of some sort. "Basically; one of my experiments had a massive meltdown, but in doing so it opened up a temporary portal between the human world and this one. For years now I've heard rumors about such a place. Many shrug it off as so much bunk, whereas I on the other hand was never quite so sure, so when I peered into this temporal rift and saw what was beyond I knew that I had been presented with a once in a lifetime chance."

"Wait," Renamon cut in. "You mean to tell me that you made this gateway thing by pure accident that you had no way of knowing what it was or where it went and you just... jumped into it?"

"My dear, the scientific community can never advance unless one is willing to take a few risks," he said frankly, to which Renamon just threw her hands up in frustrated surrender. "Anyway, after I arrived I found myself standing in the middle of a vast winter wasteland and I'll assume that your stories would be very similar here. I entered one of the caves looking for shelter and heat when I was greeted by an odd series of noises which you now know to have been the Koemon playing tricks to scare outsiders away from their home. Rather than being scared I was deeply intrigued so I followed the noises. Well, that sure did surprise the poor little thing. He took off running and I followed in hot pursuit. I was far too fascinated by what I had just seen to be afraid that I was get lost within the caves. Eventually I came out here and, to cut a long short short-"

"Too late," Renamon said under her breath. If Creedance heard, he gave no indication.

"-the Koemon took me in as one of their own. They began to call me 'Cree' and even built the little lab you see here so I may continue my experiments, which has been quite a chore on its own, as I'm sure you can guess."

"What about going back?" Andrew asked. "To our world, I mean. Is there a way to go back? Have you ever figured that out?"

When he first arrived here, all he wanted to do was go back home, but as time had passed and the days rolled on Andrew began to settle in to this one. After seeing how beautiful it was, and how many wonders there were to be discovered, his mind started to think less about what he had left behind, and more about what there was ahead; until now.

Here he had been given the slim ray of hope that he might have been able to get back to his home. It had been well over a week (maybe even closer to two) now since he had left and his mother had to be worried sick. They had fought a lot, but that didn't mean they didn't love each other. They just didn't get along. He had run out of the house on her and, now that he thought about it, that last thing he had said before slamming the door shut was: 'I hate you!'

Those had been empty, angry words meant only to hurt his mother; to punish her for some reason that he could no longer remember or understand, but now... now those might very well turn out to be his final words to her.

Andrew felt tears trying to work their way into his eyes and forced them back. Now wasn't the time or place to feel sorry for himself; later, if he absolutely had to, he could sneak off alone and have a good cry, but not now.

"I'm sorry, my boy," The Professor mourned, "Truly I am, but I have yet to repeat my mistake. Even if I had access to all of the same technology, I have no idea what I did. It was a freak accident, you see."

"Yeah," Andrew said in a small voice. "Yeah, I get it."  
"But that's not to say that you should give up hope!" Clayton went on. "Follow me back outside. Allow me to show you something."

The trio stood from their seats and carefully made their way out of the small room, through Prof. Creedance's improvised 'lab' and out the front door.

"Look up," he pointed. "You see the stones overhead, each glowing like its own sun? That, my friends, is the mineral known as digimite; a rather incredible little piece of rock, if I do say so myself. I've obtained a small amount of it, but have yet to truly understand all of its properties, but here is what I can tell you: the digimite works indirectly with the sun. Whenever the sun is up in this part of the world, whether it's shining through the clouds or not, the digimite glows and gives off heat. Here we are standing in the middle of a mountain and yet it's as bright and warm as a tropical island."

"What about at night?" Andrew asked.

"Glad you brought that up," the professor said, sounding like he was falling back into his own college lecture routine. "As the sun begins to set, so does the digimite. Their hue begins to dim and then goes out all together."

"So these rocks simulate a day to night cycle?" Andrew offered.

"Yes! Exactly! Very good!"

"Okay, so we have some glowing rocks," Renamon said. "What's that have to do with anything?"

The Professor shook his head back and forth, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth three times making a 'tsk, tsk, tsk' sound "So impatient, aren't you? If you'll give me a moment, I'll explain.

"For reasons I've yet to fully understand, the Digimite will only produce this 'simulated sun phenomenon' when in close proximity to one another and only in its naturally formed place of rest. Take a piece away and it will go dark and stay dark forever. Even if placed back exactly where it was before, it somehow knows. Breaking it out of its surrounding rock seems to break whatever properties make it work. It's like blowing a fuse in a light bulb; even if you screw it back into the same socket, it will not shine again.

"_However_," He said looking directly at Renamon this time, "digimite, when removed, does seem to gain one new function: teleportation."

Andrew's jaw dropped at the word. He almost wanted to laugh, but the perfectly somber way Clayton expressed the side effect seemed to say there was no joke about it.

"You mean it can move stuff from one place to another?" Andrew still asked, just to make absolutely sure this was what he was hearing.

"Indeed. The Koemon were the ones who let me in on this little secret. In fact, it was how they successfully scared off all outsides that came to harvest the minerals. Quite easy to act like a ghost when you're actually able to disappear, eh? Once again I can not exactly say why this bit of rock works the way it does, and believe me; I find that just as frustrating as you, perhaps even more, but I have at least the basis of a theory.

"This," The Professor said, holding out his arms in a grand special to encompass everything around them, "is the Digital World. Underneath everything is a series of complex code that holds it all together."

The man paused to bend down, snatching a small rock off the ground; he held it up before his two temporary students. "This looks like a rock. It feels like a rock. If you were to put it into your mouth it would taste like a rock, but look at its very core you will find its code. Now, that's not to say this world is not real; quite the opposite. This place is as true as our own, Andrew; it simply operates a little different. Or maybe not so different at all if certain scientific theories ever turn out to be correct, but that's beside the point."

As he spoke he allowed the rock to slip from his hand where it fell to the ground with a soft thud, kicking up a mini cloud of dirt. "What I'm trying to say is, since we know what this world is and how it works, fundamentally at least, its law can be altered. I know this might sound like gibberish to you, Renamon and I apologize for that; but Andrew you might want to think of it as being a bit like hacking a computer game. If you know what you're doing, you can change the rules to however you see fit. Now, the natural laws state that in order to get from point A to point D, one must first pass B and C, but digimite can bend those rules. It can temporarily rewrite those hidden codes to allow you to jump from A to anywhere you want."

Clayton looked back and forth between his two temporary students. "Is this making any sense?" he asked.

"Yeah," Andrew said. "A little, but its kinda making my head spin."

"Ditto," Renamon agreed. "But if I'm getting this right, you mean that that stuff could get Andrew back to his world?"

As she spoke, Andrew thought he heard an almost regretful tone to her voice. It was faint (if it was really there at all) that he didn't think anyone else around would have caught it, but after spending so much time with her, Andrew thought he was picking up on some of her more subtle traits.

"Well, in theory I suppose," the older man answered before trailing off a bit. "But... you see... the distance a person can go is relative to the amount of Digimite one has in their possession. A small shard may move you a few mere feet, but if one were to possess a large quantity of such a gem..."

"Then anyone could travel as far as they wanted. Maybe even to other worlds," Andrew said, amazed.

"Okay," Renamon added, "But if that's true then why not test it? We know damn well it's not because you're scared to."

Clayton gave a soft chuckle and said; "The problem is not one of guts, Miss Renamon, but of material. As I've said digimite only has its teleport properties after it has been removed and once it does that it can never be used for anything else."

"I get that, so what's the problem?" she pressured.

"Look around you. What you see now are the only remaining deposits of Digimite in existence."

"So if these were taken down," Andrew began and Renamon finished:

"Then the Koemon would lose their home." She turned her gaze down to him "Andrew, this is why we're here. We need to keep this spot safe from the Dark Lord."

"The Dark Lord?" Creedance asked. "Excuse me, but who is that?"

"Someone bad," Andrew said. "Someone very, _very_ bad, and he and his followers will stop at nothing to take over this world, and if what you said is true, there'd be nothing to stop him from taking over ours, too."

"That's why we need to keep him from taking over these caves and if we were sent here, than that means The Dark Lord knows about it, too," Renamon added.

"Oh, my. This is bad. This is quite upsetting. How long would you dare to say we have? Do you believe there would be enough time to warn the Koemon?"

As if in response to this the boulder at the entrance pass opened and a Koemon, the same one that had shown them down here if Andrew was right, came racing down it screaming at the top of its lungs.

"Outsider!" he cried. "Big! Mean! No scared! Coming here! Attacking!"

Panic began to spread among the Koemon as they ran for their homes, many crying out as they did so.

Making his way though the chaos, Koemon raced up to Andrew and the others. "Cree! Friends! Help! Protect home!"

"Oh dear," The Professor fretted. "This really is bad."

It was at that time that the boulder Koemon and run though and then closed again, below open with a mighty explosion sending the two who were guarding it flying. The first landed safely enough in the water; the second, however, was in for a terrible fall. Renamon was off like a shot using that amazing speed of hers to close the distance, still it was close. She had to leap to catch the Koemon before it hit the ground.

The cause of the explosion stepped though the dust and stood at the top of the path; it was a massively huge creature that looked exactly like a bull standing on its hind legs right down to the wickedly sharp horns on its head and golden ring sticking through its nose.

The only really odd thing about it (and Andrew really had to question his sanity when he was only able to pick_ one _odd thing from a six foot tall bull standing upright) was the strange canon like device surrounding its left hand and upper arm. There were a number of stitches going around its body as well as a large zipper that ran from the crotch to the neck, leading Andrew to believe that this thing was wearing some kind of suit.

"Alright you'es pipsqueaks!" it bellowed. "Let's get things straight: I'm Minotarumon and _this_ land is now under the rule of The Dark Lord! So if you all know what's good for ya's, you'lls surrender all the Digimite to me right now or I'm gonna pound each and every one of ya's inta dust!"

Moving quickly, Andrew turned to face Koemon. "Can you and your tribe help us fight?" he asked.

Koemon shook his head so rapidly back and forth that the string holding his ponytail up broke free, letting his hair fall wildly around his head.

"No fight! We Koemon peaceful! We trick and scare, but no fight!"

"Of course." He turned his attention up to the Professor. "Mr Creedance, I need you to get everyone to safety. If there's a back door out of this place lead them though that, if not than just keep them as far away from the fighting as you can. Got it?"

"Y-yes," he responded, marveling at how different this boy seemed in this moment than he had. There was fire in the boy's eyes; they were the eyes of a warrior. "I understand. Good luck."

With that said the two broke off and ran in different directions: The man calling out for the Koemon to follow him as quickly as they could, and the boy towards Renamon. A battle was about to begin and, looking at the competition, Andrew thought it was going to be a nasty one.

**To be continued.**


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

Renamon's first thought was that this guy was all brawn and no brains, which was just fine for her. She was already in battle mode; her senses all razor sharp, the colors brightened, sounds became crisper and clearer than before, her blood racing through her veins as her heart sped up. These little moments of battle where what she lived for, what she was made for. Behind her the Koemon were being lead by the egghead to safety, to her left Andrew was racing up to join her, and before her Minotarumon was cackling wildly; smashing craters into the rock walls around him with his fists.

"The Koemon say they won't help us," Andrew was saying as he approached. "Creedance is taking them somewhere safe. We're on our own with this guy."

"That's fine. That's just fine." Despite the fire that pumped through her veins, her voice was ice cold.

Raising two fingers of her right hand up to her lips, Renamon blew through them producing a piercingly loud whistle that finally caught Minotarumon's attention. He stood at the top of the path looking down at the two, apparently seeing them for the first time since his less than graceful entrance. Renamon found the idea that this beast was somehow able to pass over a human and a tall yellow fox in a room filled with tiny green creatures all the more credit his stupidity. Just where was this one when they were passing out brains?

"Hey sirloin," she called up to him. "I'll give you one chance leave before I humiliate you. I suggest you take it."

Predictably, the beast passed up the offer; instead letting out a savage roar and leaping off the top of the cliff-side path with his legs bent and left hand cupping the metallic thing covering his other as he speeded down towards them like a wrecking ball. Renamon grabbed Andrew underneath her arms and leapt backwards moving the two of them well out of the way as Minotarumon smashed into the ground hard enough to leave a hole.

"Gonna splatter yer brains all over these here walls," he cried. "Gonna pound you's two into the ground. Gonna break you's in half."

"Oooh, look at you, using three-syllable words and everything." As Renamon taunted the bull like a matador with a red flag, she began to circle away from Andrew and the town. Best if she kept the property damage as low as possible. Just as she predicted Minotarumon came charging towards her with that metal arm of his raised. He moved a slow, stumbling pace that Renamon easily avoided causing his swing to do nothing but whiff through the air. Screaming in rage he swung again and then again. And then again.

Over and over he threw his massive, beefy arms at her and came up short every single time. To Renamon it was like the bull was moving in slow motion. His swings were so clumsy that at one point she even took the time to look over to Andrew and tipped him a wink.

"Stupid _and_ slow," she mocked. "My, my. Sure you don't want to just call it quits?"

Minotarumon raised his left fist and swung in a wide sweeping motion as if trying to backhand her. Growing tired of this game, Renamon took her cue to end it. She leapt upwards, easily clearing his attack. Once she reached the highest point of her jump she brought her fists into her chest then extended them away from her body with her palms facing out.

"Diamond Storm!" she cried releasing a hail of the small, but sharp projectiles. Minotarumon lowered his head and raised his non-mechanical arm up in defense, but her aim was a true as ever and ever last shard hit home, stabbing into body.

Minotarumon yelped in pain holding his wounded arm out before him and staring at it with wild disbelief. Renamon landed just as gracefully as she had jump, feeling contempt with her opponent's cries of agony; a pleasure short lived as Minotarumon fell quiet, cutting off in mid-wail. A cruel smile spread across the bull's face as he gave his so-called 'wounded' arm one hard shake sending the diamonds careening to the ground where they shattered upon impact.

"Who's the stupid one now, eh? Didn't even tickle. Now it's my turn!"

Raising his hands over his head, Minotarumon smashed them into the ground before him. With his muscles working and his lips pulled back over his teeth, Minotarumon ripped a huge chunk of rock and earth out of the ground about the size of a compact car. He held the tons of weight over his head as if it were nothing.

"Let's see just how fast you really are," he grunted and hurled his projectile.

For as slow and clumsy as Minotarumon his aim and pitch were far from it. The chunk of earth came screaming towards Renamon like a missile and had she hesitated even for a moment, well... that would have been the end of that.

She was just able to leap out of way, the object passing so close to her that she could feel bits of dirt brush against her fur. Missing its target the rock continued to fly until it made contact with the stone wall behind her where it exploded. Renamon spared a quick glance at the carnage and tried not to think about what would have happened if she'd been between that particular rock and hard place.

"Try and keep up the pace, girly," Minotarumon mocked and he reached down with his left hand and pulled up a rock the size of a bowling ball. Renamon ran trying to avoid the screamed projectiles as they zipped by her body and blew into bits of soil and rock upon impact on the walls behind her.

One such stone ripped into the side of one of the huts leaving an almost perfectly round hole in one side and out the other. Seeing this, she quickly scanned the area for Andrew as she continued to race half-circles around Minotarumon. At some point doing their battle, Minotarumon's rocks struck the trunk of one of the many fruit bearing palm trees that dotted this incredible underground habitat. The tree broke in two and was now lying on its side with Andrew taking cover behind its fallen trunk. She could see he was holding something small between his hands and was shaking it back and forth; his face bathed in frustration. He was saying something either to himself or to the thing he held (which Renamon thought was his Digivice), but she couldn't make out the exact words from here.

Whatever the case was, the boy had the right idea; this battle had turned ugly and the attacks she before casually avoided out of fun, she was now running for her life from. Before she had planned on wearing down the brute and wait for the moment where he would slip up, but when that moment came and her best attack didn't even leave a scratch Minotarumon took advantage and turned the tides in his favor.

"Andrew," she cried out to him as another piece for earth flew past her head, clipping her ear as it went. "I need your help! I'm not strong enough to beat him like this! I need to digivolve!"

"I know!" He called back. "I'm trying!"

"Well, try harder!"

Renamon threw another Diamond Storm at the bull; he didn't even bother to get out of the way. Allowing the shards to stab into his chest, he brushed them aside with the back of his hand as easily and nonchalantly as someone brushing lint off of their shirt.

She needed to digivolve into Kyubimon if she wanted even a chance of winning, otherwise is was only a matter of time before she slipped up or lost step, and if that happened, Minotarumon would happily evict her head from her body.

**O O O**

At first Andrew watched the battle as if it were a circus performance; he even laughed when she winked at him, but then Renamon tried to go on the offensive and they all discovered that she might have been faster than Minotarumon, but he was a thousand times tougher.

Like Renamon, he had been suckered into Minotarumon's act and, also like Renamon, his heart feel into his stomach when the act was dropped and the battle turned.

When it came to brightness Andrew would have said that Minotarumon was about a 3-watt, but what little brainpower he did have that didn't go towards how to walk and breathe all seemed to be reserved for fighting. Even he could see that the ball was now in his court and there was no longer needed to bother with trying to get in one good kill shot; instead all he had to do was ware her out, wait until she tripped up and then pounce.

One of the massive rocks (which Minotarumon threw fast enough to make a major-league baseball pitcher jealous) struck a palm tree to Andrew's right side. While the projectile was well away from Andrew's body, the fallen tree wasn't and the boy had to stumble backwards to avoid behind hit; not a graceful move my any means, but at least it kept him from being squashed.

Andrew took cover behind the fallen trunk and tried to make himself as small as possible behind it. Its already been proven that he was no where near as fast as Renamon was; of one of those rocks found their way towards him than he was as good as dead.

As the boy crouched down he felt something poke into leg: his Digivice. Andrew dipped into his pocket and pulled little blue and grey egg out. The screen was as dark as it ever was and the buttons he pressed seemed as useless as the day he found it.

"Come on," He said, grabbing hold of it in both ands shaking it back and forth. "Work, damn it. I know you can work; so do it! Make Renamon digivolve!"

He might not have been conscious the first time Renamon changed, but he knew that this device was what allowed it to happen; after all it was this troublesome piece of plastic that brought him to this world in the first place as well as bound Renamon and himself together. Even for a short time after Renamon did digivolve Andrew had felt something radiating out from within his Digivice; like a kind of energy or heat. It just felt... alive, but not now. Now it just stared up at him with a blank screen.

Andrew raised his head as Renamon called out his name while trying to dodge a barrage that would never end, not so long as Minotarumon had ground beneath his feet.

"I need your help," she called to him. "I'm not strong enough to beat him like this! I need to digivolve!"

"I know!" He cried, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. "I'm trying!"

"Well, try harder," she shot back.

_Oh, try_ harder_,_ _is that all?_ He thought, bitterly. _Well then that just clears everything up, doesn't it? Thanks for the sage advice._

All sarcasm aside, why wasn't it working? He was her Tamer, after all. He was the one who was supposed to help her digivolve and if he couldn't do that, then what good was he?

The boy tried to think back to their fight with Datamon and what had happened then. She was able to digivolve then, but only after Andrew threw himself in front of her. Renamon told him later that seeing his selfless act to save her life opened something within her; a well of power she didn't even knew she had. By tapping into this she was able to change into Kyubimon; something she had never been able to do before.

Andrew wasn't about to throw himself into harms way again, not unless he had to. It was later during his conversation with Renamon that he learned that the only reason he was still breathing was dumb luck. Datamon's attack was meant to delete digital code, something Andrew didn't possess, so instead all he got was a heavy shock; not much of a consolation prize, but at least less deadly. However, had that attack been anything else: a beam of energy, a fireball, or, say, a huge chunk of earth thrown at a hundred plus speeds; then his guts would have been painting the walls. If he ever had to sacrifice his life for hers, than he would, but to attempt such a thing now would be like chopping down a tree just to get its fruit.

So if he couldn't repeat the past blunder, then he was lead right back to the same problem from where he started: how to make this thing work. Andrew was the latest in a long line of Digi-Destined and each and every one before him must have had their own Digivice and they must had knew how to work them, so why couldn't he.

"_They_ probably had instruction manuals," he grumbled.

_Getting mad isn't doing anything. Calm down. Think about this, okay? Think!_

Andrew closed his eyes and took in a deep breath and let his mind drift to where it wanted to go.

Back at the factory he had blacked out from the pain and Renamon had to later fill him in on everything he missed. She described the change; the energy she felt as her body became something new. Andrew thought it sounded painful, but she said it wasn't. She describes what she looks like and the power that she feels. Andrew becomes worried and asks if that was still her underneath it all, if she was still the same one who he had met in the middle of the woods. He asks this because there's something chilling about the way she describes being someone else. He asks this because...

The boys eyes shoot open as the realization pours over his body like a wave crashing upon the shore. The reason she can not digivolve, the reason she's fighting just to stay alive out there while he cowers out of sight, is all because of him.

He was sacred. Not of her, but of Kyubimon; this mythical beast that walks on all fours and has a constant burning blue fire around its paws and numerous tails. He's afraid because all he's ever known has been Renamon. _She_ was the one who had protected him. _She _was the one who took care of him._ She_ was the one who stood by his side even when she didn't want to. Now there was someone new waiting just around the corner that threatened to take his friend away from him. This new creature might sound the same, she might even look very similar to the yellow fox he knew, but would it still be her?

That's what sacred him. Would Kyubimon like him, would she even remember who he was?

_"I might look different, but that doesn't mean I'm someone else. I would never hurt you."_

She had said these things to him; more than that she _promised_ him, and if he wanted even the slightest chance of them getting out of this alive, he had to take that promise. He had to swallow his own fears and insecurities and press on, allowing whatever was to come, to come. He had to trust her.

"I do," the boy whispered. "I trust you."

A beam of white light shot from the Digivice's screen and the once lifeless piece of plastic in his hands suddenly warmed and pulsed with a energy all its own. The beam sped across the air like a bullet making sharp turns around any object in its way. Much like the attack Andrew had been hit with, this stream of like struck Renamon square in the chest catching her in mid sprint. Her legs parted, her arms outstretched, and her head leaned back as she absorbed the energy, but unlike Andrew's experience, Renamon's face didn't show even a hint of pain, but instead a kind of ecstasy.

The light enveloped Renamon like a cocoon. Minotarumon was stunned momentarily by what he was seeing, but seemed to snap out of his stupor upon realizing what was happening. He charged at the light like a moth meaning to strike his target head-on goring it with his horns, but instead he stopped dead in his tracks and thrown backwards as if invisible hands had grabbed him and tossed him aside like a piece of trash.

The light began to unwrap around Renamon (or what was Renamon) and faded away, giving Andrew his first real look at Kyubimon. Andrew thought that he was right to be afraid at first of this creature. Even from where he stood she looked intimidating. Renamon's already narrow, piercing eyes that seemed able to stab right through you to your very core had had somehow become more powerful, making Andrew very happy to not be on the receiving end of her wrath. As Renamon explained to him once, this was only her Champion form. There was apparently another level above this. Try as he might, Andrew couldn't even begin to imagine what that version must look like.

"You think I'm scared," Minotarumon challenged as he picked himself back up to his feet. "I'm bigger than you's, I'm strong than you's, and I'm _badder_ than you's!"

Stomping the ground hard enough to leave cracks in the rock Minotarumon blew a hot gust of air from his nose, lowered his head, and charged. He might have been slow, but Andrew was willing to bet that an impact from him would be equal to that of a train, yet Kyubimon didn't move. Instead she planted her own feet and lowed her head, starting down her opponent with his piercing blue eyes as if to say 'the running is over'.

Each of her nine tails straitened and began to glow. Balls of blue fire appeared out of thin air around her body, hovered for only a fraction of a moment and then fired themselves towards their target. Both Minotarumon and the fireballs race towards once another and, for one insane second, the light must have played tricks on his eyes because Andrew thought he could see angry faces screaming with rage swirling about in the fire, but surely that was only his imagination.

Minotarumon was instantly enveloped within the flames which spread over his entire body like a burning tomb. Andrew watched with drawn breath as the fire burned. He saw no movement from within and could near nothing save for the crackling of the flames. He began to believe that it was over, that in one swoop Kyubimon had destroyed the beast and for a moment it appeared to be so, but then the fire began to balloon outward swelling until it burst apart and from the dying circle of flames came Minotarumon.

"Is that the best you's gots? Don't you get it? Ya can't penetrate my thick skin! Nothing can! I'm invincible! Now, I'm gonna bury you and this entire shit-hole under rubble."

Lifting that mechanical device above his head, Minotarumon slammed it into the earth with bone crunching force. The ground beneath his feet first began to rumble; deep and low pitched, but growing in volume with each passing second. Soon the groud began to shake and Andrew had to grab hold to the palm trunk to keep from falling on his butt.

The huts trebled back and forth and inside items could be heard falling from their shelves. The pond began to slosh back and forth, spilling over the ground like someone shaking a glass of water. Bits of rock and soil began to rain down from above followed by a cracking noise like ice thawing on a pound, suddenly a large piece of ceiling gave way and came tumbling to the ground, just barely missing a small hut before shattering showering bits of digimite across the floor. A chunk the size of a baby's fist slid to a stop between his feet. Andrew watched as the warm orange glow from within began to flicker and then faded to darkness.

"Kyubimon," Andrew cried, "He's going to bring down the entire mountain on top of us!"

The move was desperate and nothing short of insane. Minotarumon would be buried too, didn't he see that? Was it possible that he could actually walk away from something like this? Could he really be that tough? Andrew didn't know, but unless something was done fast none of it would matter.

That was when Kyubimon began to run in small circle moving faster and faster until Andrew's eyes were unable to make out anything other than a fiery blur. The boy watched with fascination and terror as the flames seemed to take on a life of their own; building its self up high into the air where it started to take on the shape of a dragon. Andrew could see the wings sprout and unfurl from its back; the long, wide mouth, the shape of the eyes and snout, and spikes and scales.

Seeming to live and breathe of its own will the fire dragon leaned down over Minotarumon, illuminating a face that now held no smug smile, no tough words about crushing anyone in it's way. No, there was fear in that face now, perhaps the same fear that Datamon felt when _he_ discovered he had picked a fight he could not win. If Minotarumon felt any remorse at all for what he had done, it was far too late now.

The dragon charged, striking as quickly and as deadly as a cobra, as it moved its frame narrowed into a fine point that seemed to pour like water down Minotarumon's throat until there was nothing left.

Both Kyubimon as well as the earthquake came to a stop at the same time, but the bull didn't move a muscle; only stood there in that hunched over position with that mechanical, earthquake producing machine buried halfway into the ground.

Slowly, very slowly, Minotarumon opened his mouth and Andrew watched as smoke began to rise out of it the same way as something letting out a puff from a cigarette, however it just kept coming; pouring and pouring out from his throat soon followed by his nose and even his ears, and that's when Andrew realized that the bull was burning from the inside out.

He didn't want to look, but at the same time he was unable to look away. Thankfully, he was spared anything too horrible, which was more than could have been said for Minotarumon as his body burst into white light and vanished leaving behind a smoking crater no different than any of the ones around it.

Just like that, it was over. Andrew stood up and surveyed the landscape. There were holes everywhere from Minotarumon's attack and two of the huts were now nothing more than a pile of rubble. They had saved this village, but like all wars victory came at a price. Andrew tried to take solace in the knowledge that, if they hadn't been here at all or if they had lost, this hidden paradise would be as cold and empty as the frozen wastes, still...

Andrew had been so distracted that he didn't even see Kyubimon approach until she was right on top of him. He gasped, taken off guard at how quickly and silently she had closed the distance between them. His own eyes locked onto hers, and as he looked at her, his fears melted away. That piercing and intimidating coldness in her eyes was gone, replaced by the calmness and content that, unknown to the boy, was reserved for only him.

"Thank you," Kyubimon spoke, her voice nearly exact to Renamon's. "Without you... this would have ended very badly. I hope what you saw didn't upset you too badly."

Andrew swallowed back a lump in his throat. He understood what happened was necessary; the only way Kyubimon _could_ have defeated Minotarumon, but it was still something he didn't want to think about too much; safer that way.

"I told you, I'm not a little kid. I can handle it."

Kyubimon nodded.

"If you remember," she said "I kept my promise. It's still me. I told you I'd never hurt you, and I never will."

"Never doubted you for a second." A lie; but if she picked up on it, she said nothing. "So, um, is this permanent? Am I going to be calling you Kyubimon from now on?"

She shook her head, letting out a soft sigh."No, sadly. I can feel my energy draining away already. It'll just be a matter of time before-"

Kyubimon's eyes twitched and her head suddenly turned up towards the cave's entrance where at the same moment there came a slow and sarcastic clapping. Looking up at the gaping hole that was once hidden as a dead-end; a figure stepped out of the darkness.

Upon getting first seeing the newcomer, Andrew's first thought was that he was looking at another human and rightfully so: the shape was human and defiantly female by the slender hips, small waist, and large breasts. Up until that point nearly all the Digimon he had met, both friend and enemy, had been closely resembling animals except for a few. This was the only one that at first glance appeared to be human, but as he got a better look Andrew saw that this was a creature of Renamon's world, not his.

She wore a skin-tight outfit that was randomly covered with stitches (much like Minotarumon's second skin) and was torn off completely from her left leg and arm revealing pale white skin. She wore a cowl over her face that hid everything but the area around her mouth. From behind this mask a pair of blood red eyes stared down at them and long locks of white hair spilled down her back. A skull covered her right breast and her boots appeared to have evil, smiling faces with the same red eyes as hers. A pair of what once may have been wings sprouted out of her back, but now they were just as black as the rest of her dress as well as filled with rips, holes, and tares.

The most disturbing thing, the boy noticed, was that this creature's left arm was far longer than the other, and the fingers at the end of that hand stretched out into sharp, red claws. All together she formed a creature that was completely horrifying, yet oddly beautiful.

Looking at her made an alien feeling rose within the boy, dark and animalistic. Andrew quickly pushed it aside. Whatever this woman was; it was evil, and to doubt that even for a second would mean certain death. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Freddie Mercury sang about a Killer Queen who was gunpowder and a Gelatine, dynamite with a laser beam. Guaranteed to blow your mind.

"Congratulations," this woman cooed as she crossed her arms just under her chest, her voice both silky and poisonous. "You've managed to beat a five hundred pound moron and you only had to destroy half of what you were trying to save to do it."

"And just who are you?" Kyubimon growled, unfazed by the remarks. "Another one of The Dark Lord's goons?"

The woman raised one hand, her normal one, to her mouth and laughed. "Minotarumon was a goon. Datamon was a goon. Dracmon and that annoying little bird? Those are goons; pawns who masquerade themselves as knights. No, you flea bitten mutt, you are looking at the queen."

"But _who_ are you?" Andrew asked. "What's your name?"

Before speaking, the woman looked the boy up and down, rubbing her forefinger and thumb across her chin like someone deep in thought. Andrew could feel her eyes crawling over his body and tried not to shiver.

"My name is LadyDevimon, not that it matters much to you, cutie. You're not going to be alive long enough to remember it."

She raised her deadly left hand up before her so that both Andrew and Kyubimon could get a good look at it. She brought her fingers and thumb on that hand together and suddenly all five nails fused together into one large spike. Moving with a speed Andrew had only seen before in Renamon, LadyDevimon went from her casual posture into a fighting stance: her body facing sideways, her legs spread apart, her right hand facing out towards them with the spike on her left raised up like a scorpion tail ready to strike.

Andrew could hear Kyubimon panting, her breathing deep and heavy. "Damn it, no." She said. "Not now. Not yet."

Despite her pleas, Kyubimon was enveloped in light and when it faded Renamon had returned once more. She pushed herself up to her feet, still breathing heavy, but starting to catch her second wind.

This woman had been waiting the whole time, watching from the shadows and Renamon fought, gradually wearing down. She was tired now and said herself that she couldn't hold her current form as Kyubimon much longer; which was the exact moment this woman had been waiting for. She used Minotarumon to wear them down, and then stalled them with insults and long musings. Now that Renamon was weakened, LadyDevimon was going to attack.

"Andrew," Renamon said between breaths. "I want you to run. Get as far away from here as possible. Meet up with the others if you can, but just get out of here."

"What if I change you back into Kyubimon?" He asked fishing into his pocket for his Digivice, but Renamon was shaking her head not letting her eyes off the other woman for a second.

"Won't work. I'm too tired."

"I'm not going to leave you!" he shouted

"This isn't up for discussion, Rookie; go!" Renamon shouted right back.

"This is all really touching," LadyDevimon broke in, "Your valor warms my heart, really it does. But if it's all the same to you, I'm just going to kill you both now. Maybe if you're lucky, it won't be too painful."

LadyDevimon's body tensed, getting ready to pounce, when a 'twang' sound filled the silence of the cave and to Andrew's unbelieving eyes a piece of fruit that looked like a bundle of grapes flew across the room. LadyDevimon had just enough time to throw her hands up over her face before the fruit hit, splattering purple juice across her arms and chest.

At the same time Renamon and Andrew turned to look in the direction the shot had come from. Standing proudly behind them was the Professor with his hands planted firmly on his hips and a sly smile on his face. Next to him stood their Koemon, massive slingshot in hand, and filing out of a hidden cavern behind _him_ were dozens upon dozens of Koemon, every last one from the village, each brandishing their own gigantic slingshot, and each loaded with a piece of fruit.

"They came back," Andrew said, first speaking under his breath and then crying out triumphantly: "_They came back!_"

"Ready!" Creedance called and in response the Koemon lifted their weapons.

"Aim!" Two or three dozen elastic bands were pulled back.

"Fire!" The cave walls seemed to echo with a million 'twangs' as each Koemon; young and old, man and woman, released their grips sending a tidal wave of produce flying over Andrew's head.

LadyDevimon, who was looking at her stained hands as if she couldn't believe what had just happened, gave out a rather unthreatening shriek and threw up her hands in defense as she was bombarded with food. The barrage lasted only a few seconds, but by the time it ended she had been covered with juice and pulp, looking like a canvas someone had thrown random colors of paint at.

She held her arms out to either side of her body. Her mouth hung open and her eyes were wide with disbelief. From deep within her throat she was making the deep, gasping, coughing like noise people make when they have just suffered through some humiliation event that was supposed to be below someone of their stature.

"Oh! Oh you little- how dare you, you little- oh! Oh!" She rambled, seemingly unable to put together a full sentence.

Andrew's breathing became quick and sharp. He threw up one had against his mouth, trying to still the smile that spreading across his lips, but the noise only became louder. His lips parted, he took in one thick gust of air; and then he lost it. Andrew began to laugh so hard that tears spilling down his cheeks. After everything that had happened; after all the insanity and destruction and damage; to see this! He thought that they were about to die just seconds ago, but now their attacker looked like a walking fruit salad. It was just too much.

The Professor soon joined in; a high, whiney laugh that only fuel Andrew's fit. Soon the Koemon were joining in; some pointing as they laughed, others falling onto their backs, rolling side to side as they held their stomachs. Combined their voices boomed and echoed off the walls making sound as though a thousand people were mocking the girl covered in dripping fruit. Even Renamon raised one hand up to her mouth and offered up a chuckle from behind her fingers; it was a soft but beautiful sound that somehow stood out among the echoing noise.

"Shut up," LadyDevimon demanded. "Shut up! I said shut up!"

No one did. Hot lines of red color stood out against what little bit of her white cheeks he could see under her mask.

"You'll pay for this, do you hear me? You'll all pay! No one laughs at me! No one!"

Knowing that the fear and awe she had waited so patiently to obtain was gone along with her short window of time upon which she could strike out against he boy and his little pet, the woman turned and fled into the darkness. For a moment she and the shadows seemed to meld together as one, and then she was gone.

The laughter continued on behind her, slowly came down, and then finally after a few short flair ups, ended. Andrew's sides ached and his face was wet from tears, but he felt so good. He couldn't remember the last time he had laughed like that or the last time he felt as good as he just did. Inside of him, for the first time since he started this journey, Andrew was filled with an honest feeling of confidence in their chances.

**To be continued.**


	16. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

Five years ago (or at least; what he had calculated as five years, time moved so funny here,) a middle aged man with a thin frame and thinner hairline took the leap from his own world and into the one he now inhabited. His name was Clayton Creedance; professor, thinker, inventor. He had always been a deeply curious creature, even as a boy there world held an overpowering fascination. There had always been the need to discover just how things functioned, what made them tick, and why. He had devoted his life to the pursuits of the mind which lead him down the path to that day when he crossed the dimensional plane. Sometimes that day felt as though it had happened centuries ago and others it might have been just last week.

As the gateway stood before him, seemingly ripped into the very air, Clayton was just barely able to view the word beyond; like trying to watch something on television through terrible reception. His time to gawk, however, had been short lived. The picture before him began to grown dim as the passageway he had accidentally created began to shrink. It was in that moment that he knew he must either act immediately or risk losing this fascinating phenomenon forever.

Just like the first aquatic creatures that dared to pull themselves into the alien world of dry land and evolved into man, so did Clayton Creedance dare to jump through this door to see what it was that waited on the other side.

He had awakened in a snowy landscape, freezing cold and all alone. Up ahead he could just make out the mouth of a cave and with thoughts of only shelter and warmth, Clayton headed towards the opening. It was here that he would discover the tribe of the Koemon and learn from them just how far from home he really was.

Needless to say, for someone as deeply curious as he was, discovering that he had landed in an entirely new world filled his mind with questions and possibilities to the point of bursting. The Koemon took him in and made him one of their own. They had built him the lab he used and lived him, crafted the crude, makeshift equipment he used with what ever materials they had mixed with what had been left behind from the miners, or as they called them 'Outsiders'. At times the Koemon had even served as his lab assistants. They might not have been the most technologically advanced group, but they were good at following orders and always eager to help.

For years he had studied the flora and fauna, the minerals and materials, and even the Koemon themselves (being very careful to not cause any harm or discomfort, of course). In that time he had compiled pages upon pages of notes and theories and test results.

All in all; he had closed his eyes in one world, opened them in the next, and found he still remained the same man. He was a thin person, physically weak and prone to nosebleeds. Sometimes he became so lost in his own tests that he would forget to eat or sleep. He was balding and his eyesight was diminishing over time. Really, he was far from the ideal human being, but the one thing he had never been was a coward. No matter what the risks to his own life or limb, Clayton was ready to take them to satisfy the hungry beast that was his own curiosity. A coward was something he simply believed he could never be. Until today.

Certainly it was not the act of a brave man that gathered up the villagers and herded them towards their hidden escape tunnel. These tunnels had been dug by the Koemon themselves long before Clayton appeared. They were to serve as a backdoor should the main entrance ever become blocked. Later it was agreed upon as a good escape hatch should the 'Outsiders' ever make it far enough into the mountain to find them.

After years of peace, one finally had, and rather than fight for their home, Clayton and the Koemon fled. He had been accepted here and had become a part of this tribe, he was the first 'Outsider' to have ever seen this village and he had been allowed to become a part of it, but perhaps he had allowed himself to become too much like them. Clayton himself was no one for violence, but he had always held on to the belief that when one was pushed with their backs to the preverbal wall, that same man must push back. When one began to run, one never really stopped.

And wasn't that exactly what they were doing? Running; abandoning their homes and their things because of the threats of someone larger and stronger? Perhaps if they were alone in the battle, their retreat could be justified, but they were not. Two strangers had come to aid them despite the fact that Koemon Village was nothing to them. They had no ties to this place, no reason to throw down their lives for it, yet they did; and instead of standing along side of these saviors, they forsaken them. One of the two was only a child.

No; not just a child, not really. Perhaps at one point the one named Andrew Roth, the only other human he had laid eyes upon for years, had been just a kid, but no longer. Clayton had seen the way his eyes flashed when he knew a battle was about to begin; a strange concoction of anticipation and remorse as if he had somehow learned to brave the very same wars he hated to fight. There had been fear in that boy too, the knowledge that every battle meant one more chance to die never seemed to leave him, but he fought through those fears.

Now Clayton must do the same.

The man came to a halt inside of the small cavern lit only by the dim glow of the few specks of Digimite that grew here. The Koemon continued to pour past him; franticly making their way towards what they could only desperately hope was safety, all except for one, that was.

The Koemon that stopped alongside of him was the very same that had found Renamon and Andrew; as well as Clayton once upon a time. The tribe had no one clear leader, but if they did, it would have been this one. He was the bravest and kindest of them all as well as the only person Clayton could honestly call friend.

"Why stop?" He asked of Clayton. "Must run, Cree!"

"We can't," Clayton answered, tossing a somber look over his shoulder back the way they had come from.

"Yes can! Tunnel here! Run far!"

"No, what I mean to say is that we shouldn't, don't you see, Koemon?" But Koemon only shook his head in confusion. "That village is your home. Your ancestors built that land, you told me so yourself. Well, how do you think they'd feel if they saw how we now fled, leaving everything they had done to be destroyed?"

"But-"

Clayton held up one hand and Koemon fell silent. "It's more than that. This is also about those two, back there." He nodded his head back down the tunnel "Andrew and his friend Renamon; they came here for us, to protect us and the digimite. They have no need to do this, and have asked for nothing in return. How can we turn our back on them?"

"But... we no fight..." Koemon's voice was quiet, almost ashamed.

Clayton got down on his knees and rested his hands upon his friend's shoulders. "We learn," he said.

There was a long moment where the two simply stood their positions, looking at one another. He could see tradition fighting against morality behind the green monkey's eyes and finally one took precedence over the other. Koemon turned away and for a moment Clayton thought his friend would continue to run, but instead he drew in a great breath and gave out a high-pitched, bellowing 'eek'. The others, now far ahead, all came to a screeching stop, some bumping into others as they did so. They turned to look at who had made their rallying cry, and for what reason.

"The Cree and Koemon speak!" His voice was very strong and almost noble. Clayton briefly had the thought that a great king might have the same tone. "The Cree speak truth to Koemon! Koemon Village in danger, strangers come to protect, but should not protect alone! We fight! We defend home! Koemon not make his brothers and sisters fight. Those who need leave, leave. Cree and Koemon go back. Protect friends. Protect home."

This was when the earth began to shake. The others huddled around one another in fear, but Koemon never so much has blinked. Instead his eyes passed over the others, one by one, as if making them all could see what was at stake.

He took in one more breath and cried three words that held great power for this tribe: "Home! Land! Crop!"

The phrase, Clayton had come to discover over the years, had many meanings. Most commonly it was used as a greeting among friends; a way of wishing someone to have a good place to call their own as well as plenty to eat, a bit like saying 'good luck'. It was also used to console one in grief, to say that their loved one was now in a better place. The third and final used for the term was for weddings; to join home, and land, and crop as one. Now, Clayton saw, it had been given a fourth term as a battle cry, a call to arms; to defend home. To defend land. To defend crop.

Someone from the back of the group relayed the cry. Then another voice added their call. Then a third. Within a matter of seconds the hall was filled with the chants as every last man and woman repeated the mantra.

Soon they were up and running again, but this time it wasn't from the danger, it was to it.

Clayton and Koemon had been the first to emerge from the cave shortly after the earthquake had stopped, and were the first to see that their original threat had been replace by a new one; a humanoid creature that outwardly appeared female, but wasn't. The first word that Clayton labeled with creature with was demon; the second (and perhaps more fitting) was succubus.

The first battle had been won, but had taken its toll. Even from back here Clayton could see the way Renamon was hunched, the way her legs seemed to quiver to hold up her weight. The fox was worn down and possibly terribly injured, but trying not to show it. She and the boy stood defiantly against the demon that stood above them, who was readying her first strike.

He could see that one shot was all it would take. Renamon was barely standing and Andrew, well, Clayton had studied the Koemon long enough to hypothesize that a Digimon could rip through a human like tissue paper with the right attack.

"We have to do something," he said through his teeth.

Koemon grunted in agreement as he began pick something off the ground; a piece of fruit. Beside them was an old mine car some Koemon had covered the top of and turned into a rolling food cart. At some point in the chaos it had overturned and spilled its contents of various fruits upon the floor.

Every Koemon carried a massive slingshot, but despite its deadly potential these items were kept more like religious icons and each was trained in its use. To lose the item or to allow it to fall into disrepair was close to sacrilege. Despite the status granted upon it by these people, the slingshot was still at its heart a weapon and was called to action once again.

Even though Koemon was about the same size as the weapon he used, he wielded it was impeccable ease. In one swift motion he loaded the piece of foodstuff he held, aimed, and fired upon the intruder. The strike hit home, covering the woman with purple juice. Soon the others were firing upon their invader, driving her back with a bombardment of fruit.

When it was over, she and wall behind her were covered in juice and pulp. An eerie silence feel over them as the Koemon looked upon what they had done while the three before them tried to understand just what exactly had happened. That was when the boy began to laugh; an innocent childlike sound that spread like an infection until they all there laughing; all except for the intruder, that was. She screamed at them to stop, but none did. Instead the laughing only seemed to swell. Their invader, having lost all fear and respect fled, bitterly leaving the others to their private joke.

_Oh my,_ Clayton thought as he removed his glasses so he could wipe away the tears rolling down his cheeks. _I think the Koemon have just invented passive war._

**O O**** O**_  
_

The hours after the fight passed quickly. Renamon was lying alone in the Professors' hammock, absently swinging back and forth as she stared up at the ceiling. The Koemon were going to throw a feast in their honor to celebrate their victory, but first there was a lot of cleanup to do. Andrew had insisted that she get some rest before she even tried to help. She had protested at first, saying that since she caused half of the damage it was only fair she help pick up the pieces again and, besides, she felt perfectly fine. But that last part had been a lie and the boy had been persistent. Eventually she had given in and agreed to get some sleep, but only for a little while, and after that she was going to be right back outside pulling her weight. The Professor was the one who suggested that she take his bed.

"I think it's the only one in the whole village that your legs won't hang down from," he had said, and was right. The hammock was so much like the one she had in her own hutch she was able to slip right in.

She was exhausted; Digivolving was an incredible, yet physically taxing thing. When she changed into Kyubimon the sudden rush of energy she felt was enough to heal her wounds, invigorate her body, and sharpen her mind. Reverting back, on the other hand, meant all that energy had to go, making her feel like she had just finished a marathon. Thinking back, she was amazed that she had been able to carry Andrew as far as she had after leaving Datamon's factory. All she needed now was a quick rest and a bite to eat then she would be back to normal, yet for as tired as she was, sleep would not come.

It was that woman; the one who called herself LadyDevimon that had her worried. The power that Renamon felt eradiating from this woman was incredible, unlike anything she had ever felt before. She had used Minotarumon to wear her down before going in herself, but Renamon was wondering if that was even necessary. If this LadyDevimon was stronger than her, not just by a little but rather a substantial amount, what did that mean for her?

_It means you'll die,_ that cruel little voice in her head spoke up. Apparently it too had been waiting until she was too tired to put up much of a fight. _You'll die, Andrew will die, and your entire planet will be thrown into darkness. Well, your planet and his. Don't forget that part. Remember how that old coot, your 'Digital Elder' said both worlds were at stake? The pieces are starting to fall into place, aren't they? So, no pressure._

Rolling over onto her side, Renamon looked out the window cut into the wall. Outside Andrew and two of the Koemon were filling in crater with dirt using shovels hand crafted from stone and tied with reeds to a wooden pole. She couldn't make out their words from here, but she heard one of them say something to which the boy laughed and nodded.

And here was the other thing that was bothering her; Andrew. Not too long ago she practically couldn't wait to get rid of him. She wanted to stop having to play babysitter and get back to her own life, but earlier today when she had seen the way he changed after the Professor explained just what the digimite could actually do, there was something in his sudden attention and eagerness that, well, that hurt her. She had gotten used to having him around; more than that she actually started to like his company. The boy had turned out to be quite clever when he had to, and seemed to fill in all of those things Renamon knew she could never be. It wasn't like she didn't know that one day he was going to have to leave. After all this was her world, not his, but why did he have to be so fucking eager about it? Was being around her really so bad that he couldn't wait to leave?

She turned away from the window and shut her eyes, scolding herself for acting stupid. Andrew had his own family and home to get back to, it wasn't all about her. He was probably just homesick. Even she found herself missing that big patch of woods she lived her life in and knew so well. Still, even knowing all of that was probably true didn't really take away the sting.

_Try not to get too close,_ she told herself. _You know that some day soon he'll have to go back home, so just don't get attached._

The boy's laughter drifted through the window once more, and she realized that would be something easier said than done. . .

Some long period later, Renamon slept.

**O O O**

That night Andrew and Renamon sat in the middle of a private rectangular table with Clayton and their Koemon perched on either side. Before them several smaller round tables had been set up for the rest of the tribe in a fashion that reminded Andrew of a few wedding diners he had been to, except this was the first time he was in a seat of honor rather than the peanut gallery. Torches burned around them as two Koemon began serving up the meals. To his amusement, Andrew saw that they were actually wearing those tall, white chief hats.

Plate after plate of fruits, vegetables, soups, drinks, and meat; actual _meat _had been spread out before them. Andrew's stomach cried out with greedy joy and his mouth began to water. He was so happy to get some real food into him that Andrew thought he was going to cry, but before he could dive in head first into his meal, Koemon stood up from his seat. He raised his hands about his head and the others fell silent.

"Today," he announced, "good outsiders come and defend Koemon Village. Tonight we give food and bed as thanks. We now not only have home, but can defend home too! Koemons finally safe! Koemon Village safe! Wish our friends home, land, and crop!"

"_Home! Land! Crop!" _the crowed echoed before exploding into applause. Andrew smiled, feeling a little color rise into his cheeks and wondered if this was how celebrities felt. He glanced over at Renamon to see how she was taking the reception, but her face had returned to that unreadable calm Andrew knew so well.

That night they ate, drank, and were even entertained by dance. Afterwards, Andrew would enjoy a deep sleep with a full stomach and a light head, and in the morning Koemon and Clayton were already awake and waiting for them. Andrew and Renamon were lead to the mouth of the escape tunnel the Koemon had built. They were told the tunnel ran underneath most of the Frozen Peaks and would take them out someplace warmer and much more hospitable. They were then given a knapsack filled with food leftover from the night before as well as a very precious item: a small chunk of digimite that fit nicely into Andrew's palm.

"We couldn't possibly accept this," Renamon had said. "The whole reason we came was to make sure this stayed here."

"I understand that," the Professor said, "but it was the choice of the whole tribe to give you this gift. I think it will come in handy." The man reached out and placed the piece of rock into Andrew's hand, closing his fingers around it. "Be careful how you use this. As you can see it's only a small piece and its power is not infinite."

"Meaning what, exactly?" Andrew asked.

"Meaning we shouldn't abuse it," Renamon answered for the professor, maybe trying to save herself from another lecture. "Thank you. I promise we'll take good care of it."

"Thank you, friends" Koemon added. "We never forget. You welcome here anytime. Koemon home, friend's home."

"If I may inquire, where will you go to now?" asked Clayton, looking between the two.

Andrew realized that was a good question. He honestly had no idea what they were to do now. It was the Elder who had directed them here, Renamon had told him, but if he had shown up again since, Andrew certainly wasn't told. It seemed like they might be on their own for awhile.

He looked over at Renamon, hoping that she had some kind of idea. She stood there where her arms crossed and her eyes closed as if deep in thought.

"We've seen what this 'Dark Lord' is capable of. He'll stop at nothing to get what he wants no matter what gets destroyed along the way. We can't wait around any longer." Renamon opened her eyes and cast her cool gaze down the escape tunnel. "It's time we take the fight to him."

**To be continued.**


	17. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

It had taken her hours, literally _hours_, to wash the pulp and juice from her hair, skin, and clothes. As she scrubbed all she could think about was the humiliation that had fallen upon her. How dare those little whelps insult one of their betters so! She was a creature of pure beauty and perfection! She was to be worshiped and bowed down to! The travesties that had been done to her were unforgivable.

She had the brat and the bitch exactly where she wanted them: tired, weak, awestruck. All she needed to do was swoop down and finish off the only real threat standing between her and a lifetime god-like worship. As soon as the Destined and his Digimon were out of the picture, her lord would be able to bring this world to its knees, warping it into his own image. And perched neatly at his right hand, she would have millions of servants to do her bidding; to use, abuse, and then throw away at her whim. By now the world should have already been under her lord's command, and it would have been if not for those nasty little Koemon.

Their entire pathetic race would pay for that stunt. She would personally see that every last Koemon in the Digital World was struck down and their existence wiped from the records. As far as anyone would know, they would have never existed.

That would all have to come later; they were a secondary target. The first person who was going to feel her wrath would be that boy. Being pelted with fruit like a carnival freak was one thing, but the boy had done the ultimate act of blasphemy: he had dared to laugh at her. Her! She was LadyDevimon, the most beautiful creature in the entire Digital World! No one mocked her and lived. She would have her revenge.

_Oh, but I'm not going to kill you, my little pet,_ she mused with a wicked smile. _Your friend, yes, but not you. No, you I'm going to keep. I'm going to break your spirit and your will and turn you into my mindless, obedient play thing. Only after I grow bored of you will I allow you the sweet release of death, but not until then._

LadyDevimon was in her private chambers; a dark a dismal room painted black from which dozens of mirrors of all shapes and sizes hung so that no matter where she within her quarters, was she could admire her beauty.

She now sat before a vanity with was covered with thousands of bottles of creams, oils, gels, powders, perfumes, and various other beauty products to keep her looking ravishing, not that she needed any of them, or course. As she ran a golden brush through her long, luscious snow white hair she mulled over her revenge, so deeply lost inside of them that she almost failed to see that she was no longer alone.

In the reflection of the glass, she saw movement behind her from somewhere within the deep shadows of her room. LadyDevimon was up on her feet within a blink of an eye, but even this impressive speed as not fast enough. As soon as she had turned around a hand came out of that darkness and closed around her throat, cutting off her air. She was then violently slammed against the stone wall hard enough to send three of her mirrors crashing to the ground. One of them, a full body mirror, only cracked, the other two shattered completely.

"I have waited too long," her lord said as his grip tightened around her throat. "Far, far too long for this day to come; the day I could rise again out of the emptiness and reclaim the world that had been denied to me. Do you know why I've allowed you to serve me, LadyDevimon? Do you?"

She tried to speak, but could manage no more than a faint groan. She had to shake her head rapidly back and forth instead.

"I've kept you because you were supposed to be powerful. I gave you one simple order; to destroy the child and his Digimon, but you disobeyed me. I will see that child dead, do you understand me? I underestimated the DigiDestined once, which is a mistake I will _not_ make again."

Everything started to lose its focus as the blood flow was cut off from her brain. She began to think that he was either going to choke her until her lungs gave out, or snap her neck with a squeeze of his hand, to her relief he did neither. He released his grip and she dropped to the floor on her hands and knees taking deep, hacking coughs between breaths.

"I have steadied my hand on this day," The Dark Lord warned. "You may not be so lucky twice."

"Y-yes, my l-lord. I under-understand."

"See that you do."

The figure stepped back into the shadows and was gone, leaving LadyDevimon alone on the floor, gasping for air and surrounded by shards of glass from which she could see a hundred reflections of her own frightened eyes staring up at her. She swept the shards away with the back of her hand. Never before in her life did she feel less like looking at herself than she did now.

**O O O**

The tunnel had been long. Very long. So long, in fact, that at one point they had to stop to rest and get a bite to eat from their rations produced from their newly acquired rucksack provided to them by the Koemon. It was a light tan in color that felt like some kind of leather. On the few occasions that the Koemon did have to travel into the snowy wastes, this was what they took with them. Andrew was the one who opted to carry it, saying that it was no different than the backpack he took with him to school five days a week, except that what he was wearing now was much lighter. No heavy math and history book to weigh him down now.

At first their way had been lit by chunks of digimite growing above their heads. It was a dim light, no where near as strong as what was inside the village, but it at least was enough to see by. Now that they were further down the path their light source had disappeared all together.

For awhile the glow of the rocks had been growing thinner and thinner as fewer deposits of the mineral grew, until about a mile back or so when they ended all together. This tunnel was no where near as bad as the mines had been, and there was luckily only the one path to follow rather than a complicated labyrinth of tunnels. The route they were on now still had its twists and turns, but at least there was no longer the risk of getting lost of falling down some long forgotten shaft. Still, just to be safe, Renamon lit the way for them once more.

Speaking of Renamon, Andrew noticed that she had been acting strangely ever since they left; more standoffish, even for her. She would only speak whenever he directly asked her something and even then with the fewest words possible. It was like when they had first met all over again. Several times he tried to engage her conversation, only to be shot down each and every time.

The boy racked his brains trying to figure out just what was wrong with her, what it was that was making her act so cold. He had thought that they had made a lot of progress as partners and, more importantly, as friends. Maybe he was wrong, maybe she really didn't like him all that much after all, or maybe it was the battle that was still bothering her. They had come within a hair's length of death yesterday and for someone like Renamon who took pride in her strength and power, losing like that had to bruise a nice chunk of her ego. But if that was all it was, than why didn't she talk to him about it? Was it only his imagination that her hostility seemed to be aimed directly at him? It was possible, Andrew supposed, but he didn't want to believe it.

Andrew wanted to say something, to ask her if something was wrong or if something was wrong _with him_. He wanted to do these things, but he didn't. Call it cowardice or call it stubbornness, but the boy hoped that everything would blow over. The chances that Renamon would just forget about whatever was bothering her and go back to normal were slim to none and he knew that, yet Andrew hoped for just that miracle.

Yeah. He was a coward.

"There's a light up ahead," Renamon said; the first words she had spoken without prompting since they entered the cave.

Andrew looked down their path and indeed saw tiny shards of daylight coming from above further down the tunnel, but the light wasn't the kind of sunny, warm light given off by the sun or even digimite. Andrew knew there was a word for that kind of light he was seeing, but for the life of him he couldn't place it.

After several more minutes of walking the two reached the far end of the tunnel, and it was the end; the rock wall suddenly came to a dead stop before them and if it weren't for the illumination coming from above them, Andrew would have thought that they had come all this way just for a dead end.

Renamon raised up the hand she had summoned her blue fire around to get a better look at what was on top of them. The light glinted and flickered off of something metallic and round. It was an item that Andrew had seen a million times. So often in fact, that he had stopped noticing them just as anyone else who ever lived in a city would have, yet for as common as it was, it still took Andrew a second to place the name because seeing this item here felt so impossible. And there was also the fact that he had never been on this end of one of these things before.

"It's a manhole cover," Andrew said as if Renamon had asked. "We're... underneath a manhole." Suddenly his brain also placed the same for the kind of light they were seeing through the slits in the cover: florescent. It seemed they weren't getting out from under the ground, not yet.

The only response he got from Renamon was a soft grunt. Standing on the tips of her toes, she was just able to reach the covering which she pushed out of its slot and off to one side. She then put out the flame she had made, bent down, and then leapt upwards high enough to get a solid grip around the edges of their opening and pulled herself up and out of view.

Several seconds ticked by and there was no sign of the fox, only the faint rush of water and an unpleasant odor wafting down into the tunnel. Andrew was starting to get worried. Suppose there might have been something waiting on the other side of that opening that grabbed Renamon. What if she was in trouble? There was no way he could reach the hole from here, he was too short, but if something bad had happened...

"Renamon?" he called up, but received no response.

The boy waited several seconds and tried again, but still there was nothing. Now he was getting scared. Andrew took in a deep breath ready to call out a third time, louder than before, when a hand reached down out at him. Andrew cried out in surprise just as Renamon's face came into view. She was the one reaching down for him.

"It's safe," she said. "Come up."

Feeling like a complete idiot Andrew grabbed on to her hand and with one strong yank, was pulled up and out of one tunnel and into a completely new one.

Where as the escape tunnel they had come out of was narrow and carved into the dirt and stone, this one was quite wide and entirely made of concrete from floor, to walls, to ceiling. They were standing on a raised walkway wide enough for only one person at a time and ran in both directions, however there was a thick barred grate covering the tunnel that ran in the same direction as they had come from, so it seemed that there was only way to go was forward. Running along side of their pathway was a deep channel nearly filled to the brim with slug water; thick, brown, and incredibly foul smelling.

Andrew cupped one hand over his mouth and nose trying to block out the stink. "We're in a sewer! That tunnel took us into a _sewer_!" He couldn't believe that they had traveled as far as they did only to end up into another (probably longer, and defiantly worse smelling) tunnel.

_Thanks a lot, Professor,_ he complained. _Would have been nice to know that this was where your escape tunnel ended up._

"Well now what?" Andrew asked as he pulled his shirt up over his nose like an air impromptu filter.

"We keep moving," she said, walking down the only direction they could go from here. How she wasn't gagging on the air when Andrew knew for a fact her sense of smell was keener than his was a mystery.

While Andrew didn't know what this sewer system had been for, he had come to discover that it had been set up a lot like the mine shaft had been, with tunnels branching off in hard right or left angles every so often. However, the chances of getting lost down here seemed to be thankfully impossible as every turn off seemed to be blocked off with the same mesh covering like the one that had been behind them when they first pulled themselves up into the sewer.

After a while the catwalk they were following came to the same kind of dead end and they were lead off onto another tunnel branching off to their right. If Andrew's sense of direction was still working right, he thought they were heading either East or Northeast, but being underground for as long as they had it was difficult to tell for sure.

At least their way was well illuminated by florescent lights attached to the walls every few feet. Unlike in the caves these long white tubes still had electricity running to them and surprisingly few had burned out leaving their way very well lit, for better or worse. It wasn't like the view around here was all that pleasant.

As the two made their way through the sewers they so far managing to stay dry, but Andrew began to get a weird feeling, as if someone, or something, was watching them. Several times he had turned around and would see nothing but cement and sludge. Andrew tried to tell himself that he was just being silly. It wasn't like there were a lot of places to hide down here. If anyone was following them, they'd be able to hear it, or at least Renamon would even if he couldn't. Right?

There was something else that was bothering the boy, even though they were mostly moving up-stream from the sewage, there always seemed to be a something lurking just underneath the water. Andrew couldn't tell if he was just seeing things or if this was a shadow or what, but it was always the same dim shape under the sludge, and no matter how far they walked it was always right behind them.

This time, as he moved forward, Andrew kept his head turned looking behind him, hoping that he wouldn't misstep and fall into the goo. For a minute, the shape or shadow or whatever stayed where it was, but then a pair of eyes on green stalks poked up out of the water from that same spot. Those eyes stared at the boy and he stared right back. Without lids Andrew couldn't make out what, if any, emotion was behind those eyes, but he wasn't too eager to find out.

"Renamon," he called. "We've got company."

As if expecting this (and maybe she was) Renamon was turned around and ready to fight before Andrew was even done calling her. The eyes plopped back down underneath the water and the shape began to move towards the raised cement walkway. Andrew watched as those eyes rose out of the water again, this time being trailed by the green stalks and a blob-like body with purple spots and a huge mouth. The thing was small, but Andrew didn't like the look on its face. Between the wide, off-center eyes and the open mouth with the tongue sticking out, the little pile of snot looked moronic, insane, or both.

"Hey!" It gurgled as it started to crawl towards him, its tone not threatening, but also far from friendly. "Hey! Hey! Food! You got food? I can smell food. You got food, right? Right? Give it. Give Numemon the food."

Renamon pushed her way in front of Andrew, getting between him and the blob called Numemon.

"I suggest you get out of here before I squash you," she warnedd, but Numemon paid no mind; instead continuing moving towards them.

"Food!" It called out. "They got food! Everyone, hey! Food! _Food_!"

Something moved out of the corner of his eye. Turning his head, Andrew saw another pair of eyes pop out of the water. Followed by another. Then Another. Then two. Then five. Then ten. Andrew watched, stunned, as an uncountable number of Numemon popped up from under the sludge water and began to make their way towards them. They might have been small, but there were a lot of them and this was an enclosed space. If the fight with Datamon had taught him only one thing; it was to not take any Digimon at face value.

Thinking quickly before they could be surrounded, Andrew slipped off the pack and reached in, grabbing the first piece of fruit his hand touched.

"Look, you see this?" He called out, holding the fruit over his head, shaking it back and forth like he was going to play fetch with a dog. "You want it? Huh? You guys want it? Then go get it!"

Andrew was all to aware of the hundred or so eyes locked onto the food as he cocked it back and threw it has hard as he could back the way they came. All of the Numemon who had been slowly advancing towards them, suddenly sprang on the fruit with surprising quickness. He was reminded of turtles; how they normally moved slow, but could really haul if they needed to. It seemed these little things could do the same.

"We should go now," Renamon said.

Andrew thought he couldn't agree more. They started to slowly back away, making sure they weren't being watched by any of the Numemon as they had their feeding frenzy; each one attacking the other as they tried to gobble up every last bite for themselves. When they were sure they were safe, the two turned and began to book it. From behind them one of the Numemon called out:

"They're escaping with our food!"

There came the splashing of water at their heels and the cry of voices and the little green slimes gave chase. Andrew, in the lead now, dared one look over his shoulder. From behind Renamon he could see the Numemon, but they were rapidly falling behind.

_There might be a ton of them,_ Andrew thought. _But at least they're slow and small._

No sooner did those words pass through his mind than did the sewage sludge began to bubble up ahead of them as if something was rising to the surface. Renamon, as if sensing Andrew was getting ready to stop, gave him a good shove on the back.

"Keep moving," she ordered. "No matter what, just keep moving."

It was as if the very goop lazily flowing by them had come alive. As they closed in on the bubbling; a massive blob burst up from the sewage, splattering the two as they ran past. Andrew only got a quick look at the creature, but that was all he needed.

Like the Numemon, the thing looked like it was _made_ of slime, only it was far wider; bigger than Andrew was. Its body seemed to constantly ooze over and around its two red eyes, its large mouth dotted with pointed uneven teeth, and its sharp claws at the end of what Andrew could only guess were hands.

This creature gave out mindless groan as it raised one of its dripping hands and swiped. They should have been just out of reach, but it was as if this thing had no bones or muscle of any kind; only that decaying flesh that made Andrew's throat burn and eyes water. That hand seemed to stretch out to almost double its normal length causing its claws to cut into Renamon as she ran.

Renamon cried out in pain causing Andrew to skid to a stop and spin around. Renamon was down on her hands and knees. From this angle he could see three slashes across her back. There was a lot of blood pooling around those wounds yet they didn't look too bad; at least not fatal. Not yet. If they didn't get out of this disease ridden death-trap soon, however...

"Go," Renamon told him as she pushed herself to her feet. "I'm fine! Run!"

But Andrew stood his ground. He had already told her back in the village that he wasn't going to leave her behind, not when she was healthy and certainly not after she had been wounded. Before he could argue this point, however, Renamon was up and moving again, grabbing his arm and pulling him along beside her. Her face winced with every other step and her lips were pulled back over her teeth like a snarl. He could hear her taking sharp breaths through them every time one of her feet hit the ground. They were going to have to do something about her wounds, but first they needed to escape.

The grey blob attacked again just as Renamon pulled Andrew around a corner. He could hear a heavy, wet splat as the thing's hand smashed down on the bare concrete. From behind them came another stupid, but clearly angry groan.

They kept moving, even after the thing had gone and the shouts behind them had faded away, they kept moving. There was no telling what else could be in these sewers or what could be lying in wait beneath the waters. If Andrew had to ditch their entire bag of food for their safety than he would, but not unless he had to; there was no way of telling what might they might find once they get out of here. This food might be all they'd have to eat for days or even weeks. There wasn't much. It had to last.

They had been lead through two more tunnels before they came across it: a ladder built into the side of the wall leading up to another manhole.

"Climb up," Renamon said. "I'm right behind you."

Andrew didn't like the way she sounded. She was breathing too hard and the wounds on her back were still dripping blood.

"Renamon, are you-"

"Climb!"

Jerking as if he had just been slapped, Andrew grabbed hold of the metal rungs and began to pull himself upwards until he had reached the top. From deep behind them, he could hear the shouts rising up one again; the constant clamor for 'food, food, food!' It seemed that they didn't pull ahead quite as far as he had hopped.

Andrew pushed against the metal above him, and felt nothing. No give, no movement. It was stuck. He tried again and in response was given only a small creek and a shower of rust.

The cries were closer now and growing; then came the groan again from the giant thing that also wanted their food, or maybe the flesh off their bones. Andrew didn't know for sure and didn't think they would find out until one or the other was being ripped apart. Personally, it was a gamble he didn't feel like taking.

Throwing as much of his weight upwards as he could, Andrew pushed against the manhole cover with his entire upper body; determined to push until one or the other gave out.

The cover creaked and groaned. Andrew was splattered with specks of rust and dirt as they fell, but still he kept pushing, resolute in getting them out of here; to not die in a sewer just because he was too weak to break out a rusted metal covering.

From above him came a loud pop and suddenly the cover was gone; sliding off his back and out of the way. The sudden change from massive weight to none at all caused Andrew to lose his balance. He most likely would have fallen off the ladder if Renamon hadn't been there to steady him. Her hand shot up, resting upon his lower back and held him until Andrew had a foothold again and was able to pull himself out up and out. Not taking the time to see where he had ended up, and not even caring as long as it was safe, Andrew spun around and helped pull Renamon out of the hole.

Once out, they both grabbed the manhole cover and lifted it. Not a single word passed between the two, they just seemed to know exactly what the other was thinking. Using what was left of both of their strength they dropped the covering back into place and waited for what would happen next.

Andrew closed his eyes, trying to not to hear Renamon's heavy breathing or his own pounding heart; straining his ears to take in only the muffled sounds from below.

He could hear them; the sludge monsters were getting louder, but not exactly closer. Which was to say: they were further down the tunnel, but not yet climbing the ladder. Still straining his ears Andrew listened as the voices swelled to as loud as they would be from here. Now they would either get closer or start drifting away.

It didn't take long to find out which it would be, yet Andrew didn't move. He wanted to be sure; absolutely and without question before he did a single thing, but there was nothing. No noise beyond their breathing. The cries of the advancing horde had swelled, reached their peak, and then fell away as they passed the manhole and kept right on going. It had gone quiet. They were safe.

Well, not exactly quiet; there were noises all around them: insects buzzing, birds chirping, leaves blowing in the wind.

The boy opened his eyes and really looked around for the first time. His fears that they would climb into another tunnel, and then another after that, and so on for the rest of their lives were proven wrong. They were defiantly outside. Grass was beneath their feet and trees stood towering above them and through them Andrew could see bits and pieces of a blue sky, and if he turned around Andrew could see the mountains; now falling away South of them instead of rising in the North.

_We're in another forest,_ he thought, then quickly changed his mind. _No, not a forest. The air is too heavy and muggy._

That wasn't all. The trees had grown tall and thick, from which numerous vines hung. Colorful flowers and bushes grew all around them and from off in the distance he thought he could hear a waterfall. This wasn't a forest. It was a jungle.

In that short period of time Andrew was trying to get his bearings, he had forgotten about Renamon. Now he heard her let out a low groan. Turning to face her, Andrew saw her eyes were closed and one of her hands was on her head as was slowing rubbing her temple.

"Renamon? What's wrong?"

She gave no response, which wasn't so strange, but Andrew didn't think she had even heard him this time. Andrew began to move towards her, not knowing what he was going to do once he got over to her.

He had managed no more than three small steps when the fox let out a soft sigh and she began to fall. Rushing over as fast as his legs would allow, Andrew managed to reach her before she hit the ground. He got a good grip around her upper body, but couldn't stop her fall. The best he could manage was slowly lowering her onto his lap.

"Renamon? Talk to me, okay? Say something; anything!"

She was out cold; her breathing was slow and haggard. Andrew wondered if Renamon felt like this after he had collapsed from Datamon's attack: scared and in shock. He didn't know what to do. They were alone out here in the wilderness.

He couldn't leave her here to get help, but he was also not strong enough to carry her, and even if he could, where would they go? There was nothing but thick underbrush all around them and the way they come was far too dangerous. But, he had to do something. He couldn't just sit here. She was badly injured; much more than he had thought. And if he didn't do something fast-

The boy's thoughts, which were wild and very close to panic, were quickly cut off and replaced by a numb, cold fear as Renamon's body was surrounded by a harsh light. Andrew had only seen this kind of glow in two reasons: when someone was Digivolving or when someone was dying,

And Renamon was certainly not Digivolving.

**To be continued.**


	18. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

The wheels of fate began to revolve faster. As each massive cog spun, turning those around it at an ever increasing pace, the remaining players were brought closer together towards what would be their final conflict; and what would happen on that day was beyond the knowledge of even the Digital Elder himself. As he had once told the young boy and the yellow fox; he saw the world living in peace; he saw the world dying in flames, and there was nothing he could do. Not directly. He knew everything that ever was and could see everything that could ever be; a power so great it could lead the madness. The Elder had decided long ago to never directly interfere with the affairs of his world; to do so was to invite darkness into his heart; to allow corruption to seep into his very being and rot him from the inside out.

Power itself did not destroy men and topple towers, but rather it was the decisions on how to use that power that did.

The one who had cast away his old name and now called himself 'The Dark Lord' had once held such potential, but he had allowed his lust to overwhelm his mind and soul, giving birth to the monster that he now was. His presence was no new threat to this world or to the boy's. He had taken the lives of many and there were still more who would fall before this journey reached its end, but none of that would matter if the fox were to die from the toxins racing through her body.

Alone, the boy might still try to march towards the castle that held this evil, might still try and fulfill the role destiny had bestowed upon him at birth, yet he would be doomed to fall, just as how the fox would fall if something were to happen to the boy. They had both been born as two half of the same whole. The Digivice had only been the link that pulled the chain together; destiny was the true power behind the throne, yet even it was not absolute.

The words 'destiny' and 'fate' are thrown around very loosely by those who do not really know their meanings. Over time there has come this false belief that destiny is whatever _has _to be and is an unstoppable, singular force. The truth, however, is much darker.

Destiny, as known by those who were there when the world began (not just the Digital World or the Human World, but _all_ worlds) and were still around today, was a word that did not mean was would be, but rather; what _must_ be for all the worlds to continue on, but even fate could be stopped. For every yin there was a yang and there were those who worked against the things that 'must be' to suit their own needs.

Those who worked against destiny were as equally powerful as the very thing they fought against. Sometimes men were cut down in the prime of their life, stopping the events that would have shaped their worlds. Sometimes these men were saved at the last second and allowed to move on. Not every man saved worked for the greater good. Not every man killed was an agent of light.

There were times when the events of an entire world were changed or good or ill all because of one person who happened to be in a particular spot at a particular time.

One of the many things that 'could have been' was changed on this day, and all because there was one old man who had been having bad dreams.

**O O O**

Every night it was the same thing: crimson red light, storm clouds over head, thunder and lightning in the skies. The rains, black as oil, fell and killed everything each drop touched. Flowers wilted, grass yellowed, trees lost their leaves and feel dead to the ground. The land became a colorless wasteland devoid of every bit of splendor and beauty it had once been. In spots the very ground itself opened up into wide chasms, cutting into the earth like deep wounds that would bleed for all time and never heal.

The people ran, their screams filling the dead air, but none were able to escape the darkness that had fallen over the world. When the black rain hit their skin they cried out as if in deep agony as steam rose from the bodies. Soon the screaming stopped and the infected opened eyes now as red and wicked as the skies. Each face held an evil smile as their minds were filled with the dark thoughts of their new master.

Each would march onwards, mindlessly obeying their order to bring death to everything around them. And they would. And everything would fall under the cold, empty shadow of this new, dark lord.

Jijimon would then wake, each time having to fight against the screams he felt rising in his throat; not only to avoid waking his wife, but also fearing that once he allowed himself to start screaming, he might never stop.

He had been alive for a very long time. In fact, he would proudly state to anyone who would listen that he had been there almost since the very beginning of the Digital World. There were few outside of his equally elderly wife that believed the old man, but Jijimon cared not for their options. He knew what was true and that was good enough.

He had seen a great many things in his time and had forgotten more stories than most would ever tell in their lifetime. Life in the Digital World was rarely easy and he had felt the presence of evil before and had been very pleased to see that each time that evil received a sound woopin'. The nightmares he was having now, though, were unlike anything he had ever known. Never before had things felt so... final, so very close to an end; as for what kind of end it was, Jijimon could not say, but what he did know was that it was approaching fast.

There was a routine to his morning that Jijimon followed. After quietly getting out of bed so not to disturb Babamon; a hardheaded woman, but one he was very happy to spend his long life with, he would take his meager breakfast outside and sit beneath the trees eating and listening to world around him. Afterwards he would then take a short stroll about the jungle and then be back home once again.

Lately his 'short strolls' had become more like long treks. Ever since the nightmares had begun Jijimon no longer walked to prepare himself for the day ahead, but rather to try and clear his worried and troubled mind. At first he had been able to do so easily, telling himself that everyone had a bad dream now and then, but over time it had grown harder and harder to lie to himself and as a result his trips had taken more time and covered more ground then ever. The mountains to the south, normally no more than hills in the distance easily hidden behind the thick tree line, grew closer with each passing day.

Why he headed in the same direction day in and day out when there was such a vast jungle to see and explore was beyond him; there was just this pulling in that direction; a feeling of rightness as he headed towards them. At some point during these trips that feeling would just stop, blown out like a candle in the wind, and Jijimon would then turn and head home. Each day that feeling lasted a little longer and took him farther then the one before. It was almost if he was being prepped for something, but surely such an idea was insane. He was a very old man who did little more than eat his meals, laze around his house, and argue with his wife just for the fun of it. Jijimon was ancient, useless, and damn proud of both. To even entertain the thought that he was supposed to be doing something of importance by this point in his life was nothing short of laughable. He would not even joke about such a thing.

Yet, on that morning when a self-appointed old and useless man was traveling deeper into the jungle than he had ever gone before, heard a scream of deep pain and reacted as quickly as if he were waiting for this very moment.

The scream reminded him so much of his dreams, that for a moment he feared that they were coming true, that if he were to looked up now through the tree tops he would not see the blue, nearly cloudless sky he had watched earlier that day while he ate, but a red one with black storm clouds filled with thunder; because just like in his dreams this was not a cry of physical pain, but an emotional one. In his nightmare those touched by the black rain had only time to give one heart wrenching cry as if in the last few seconds of consciousness they realized the evil that had invaded their bodies.

Moving though the underbrush, Jijimon wondered just what the owner of that voice had seen to make him give sound a horrid sound.

**O O O**

The light that Andrew had once found so beautiful despite its intensity now mocked him, threatening to take away the only person in his entire life he had ever gotten close to. He had been too slow and she had gotten hurt because of it. The agony she must have been in as she tried to usher him out of the sewers must have been beyond intense, and yet she somehow fought through it all until he was someplace safe. Up until the very end she had tried to protect him.

Andrew shook his head violently, trying to get rid of that thought. This wasn't the end. He wasn't going to let it be. He needed Renamon with him, not as some kind of protector, but in some deep emotional level that he couldn't quite understand, but he could puzzle that out later. Right now he didn't have time for such thoughts. He couldn't lose Renamon; his heart couldn't take another blow.

He had learned long ago that it really didn't matter how much you cared for something, they could be taken away from you at any point and there was nothing you could do.

_No,_ Andrew fought back. _Not her. They can't have her!_

"I won't let you go," the boy cried as he wrapped his arms as tightly around Renamon's frame as he could, letting his fingers dig deeply into her fur as if he could hold her to this world just by holding_ her_. There had been some part of him that had expected the light to burn as he touched it, like putting your hand around a lightbulb that had been on for hours, but there came no such heat or searing pain. Even if there had been he would have held on, of that he was sure.

"You can't leave," he was saying, his voice no more than a whisper. "You can't, you can't, you can't."

Yet despite how many times he chanted or how hard he wrapped his arms around her chest, Renamon began to disappear. Andrew could feel the weight of her body begin to fade as his hands started to slip through her fame as if she were already a ghost. There was a little resistance at first, and then even that began to go. Soon it was like he was trying to hold smoke in his fist.

The boy shut his eyes as the tears rolled down his face and screamed; not even aware he had made the noise. First his father, and now Renamon; two of the most important people in his life were gone. There was still his mother, of course, but since she was now in an entirely different world, she might as well be gone, too. He was alone; completely alone. Just how long would he be able to survive by himself out here? Days? Hours? He didn't know and in that moment, he really didn't care.

Andrew lowered his head, but kept his eyes shut and his hands sunk deeper and deeper into nothingness; what would soon be empty air. He couldn't look at what was happening, couldn't stand to actually see her go. They never even had a good-bye, he realized. In fact, they hardly had two words of real conversation pass between them since the day before and he would never know why. He shouldn't have been such a coward. If he would have said something or tried to get her to talk then maybe he could have changed things.

Something pressed against the boy's arms, solid yet soft. The light had faded and gone, but had left an after glow in his eyes that took several seconds for Andrew to blink away. When he was able to see once again the boy looked down into his lap. He could feel something still in his arms, but it was so small. It couldn't have been Renamon, but yet in a way... it was.

Andrew looked at the yellow puffball in his lap with four small nubs for legs, long, pointed ears, and a fluffy white tipped tail. The boy realized he knew who this was and after a moment of searching through his chaotic mind was able to pull out a name: Viximon. Renamon had mentioned this In-Training level of herself one to him in passing, gliding over most of it almost as if she was embarrassed of what she had once been, and Andrew thought he could understand why.

Renamon was always so proud of her strength and fierceness. She found pleasure in the fact that sometimes all she had to do was look at an opponent to make them surrender. As Renamon she was tall, powerful, and intense. When she Digivolved into Kybiomon, she somehow managed to appear to be an even more dangerous opponent; and this was because she was, but as Viximon she didn't look vicious at all. Instead she was actually… cute; like a stuffed animal come to life. This was a form that went against everything Renamon had tried to build her reputation around.

Personally, in that moment the boy could not have cared less about how she looked or what she wanted others to think of her; she was alive. That was all that mattered to him. Andrew had been so sure that the wound she had taken had killed her. If it had, he wouldn't have known what to do.

Yet, there was still no reason to celebrate. Andrew didn't know what the opposite of Digivolving was, but somehow she had managed it and while it seemed to heal her wounds, it didn't bring her back to consciousness and didn't fix whatever was wrong with her on the inside.

Viximon's body was far too hot in his hands and he could actually feel the heat baking off of her, yet at the same time she was shivering as if they were back in the Frozen Peaks rather than this thick, warm jungle. Andrew wasn't a doctor, but even he could see a fever when one showed up, after all; he had gone through one himself about three years ago.

It had been the middle of winter and he had been playing outside for too long and managed to catch ill. That night as he lay in bed he went through spouts of extreme hot and cold. One minute he would be lying under his covers curled up into a tight ball, shivering, and the next he was throwing the blankets off of him as he sweat like a pig. By the morning his pillow, sheets, and mattress had been drenched in sweat. Andrew had gotten better, of course, but he had medicine given to him by his mother.

For Viximon there was no medicine cabinet sitting above the bathroom sink, no foul-tasting yet helpful purple goop to drink from a spoon. A normal fever might break on its own if given enough time, but Renamon had been attacked by something that lived its life in a sewer. Who knew why kind of bacteria and poisons were on that thing's claws. Without help of some kind, she was still going to die. As for now they had only delayed the inevitable.

When Andrew heard the bushes ahead of them start shaking, he was instantly up on his feet, clutching Viximon in his arms like she was his child or some valuable item. Something was coming towards them and if it proved to be dangerous; some Digimon that had smelled what it thought to be an easy meal, than Andrew was ready to give it a run for its money. He might not have been about to shoot fire from his hands or make razor sharp shards appear in the air, but he still had two fists and working legs and he would fight if he had to.

For Renamon-

_Viximon,_

_Kyubimon,_

-he would fight to his last breath.

The underbrush finally broke and the thing that coming towards them stepped out. If Andrew had been expecting some kind of wild animal with red eyes and a foaming mouth, than he would have been severely disappointed, because what he saw instead was a small elderly-looking man nearly half the boy's height wearing a brown cloth like a toga and carrying a walking stick taller than he was with a large yellow cat's paw at the end. As a matter of fact, the elderly man (or Digimon, rather) looked almost as surprised to see Andrew as the boy was to see him, or at least, Andrew thought he was surprised. It was impossible to see the man's face through his long white hair and beard.

For a long time the two of them just looked at one another, trying to size the other up. It was the old Digimon that finally broke the silence.

"Why, hello there, sonny." He said while he waved with the hand not holding on to his walking stick, "Guess you're what I've been lookin' for these last few days."

"W-what?" Andrew replied, thoroughly confused. While this was far from the strangest thing he had seen since coming here, his mind was sill reeling from before and Andrew didn't think he could even figure out what one plus one was, then.

"Oh, never mind. That's not important now," the old man waved off. "The name's Jijimon, but that's not important either. Seems to me that your friend there is in a bit of trouble, mind if I have a look?"

The creature that called itself Jijimon took a step forward and in response Andrew pulled back. He didn't trust this guy, not yet. He seemed harmless enough, but after everything that had just happened, the boy wasn't going to take any chances.

"Alright," Jijimon said and came to a stop. "I can understand your hesitation. I mean, here come some strange geezer out of the bushes asking to have a look at your injured friend. I guess you have the right to be wary. I can tell you right now that she's sick, but from exactly what illness I can't say, but I'd bet you my wife could. Ever since we moved to these jungles she's made a hobby outta learnin' about all the plants, and roots, and herbs, and what have you. I know there's a word for someone who does that, but it escapes me now. Anyway, if anyone will know what's wrong with your friend and how to fix it than it will be her.

"I tell you, she's just about got a remedy for everything, always trying to get me to drink some kinda tea or another. She says it's good for my health and I told her; 'woman, I've been around since time began and I ain't had no use for fancy teas yet!'"

"Are- are you really that old," Andrew asked, fascinated that he might be talking to a Digimon centuries older than he was.

"Take a look at me, son. I sure ain't no spring chicken," Jijimon hooted.

"Your wife, where is she?" The boy was cautious but slowly coming around. The 'nice-old-man' thing might have been a bit, but why bother going through so much trouble? Andrew certainly wasn't much of a threat; if Jijimon wanted to attack than he would have by now, right? Still, Andrew thought it would be wise to keep his wits about him.

"Back at the old homestead. She should be awake by now and I can personally guarantee she'll be happy to help... ehh, what was your name, sonny?"

"Andrew," the boy said. "And I'll follow you there, but I'm holding on to Viximon, okay? I'm not letting her go."

"That's fine, that's just fine. We're not to far away and we can get back might quick if we hurry, uh, tell me son; how fast can you run?"

Andrew thought this over, he was tired, but he figured he would be okay for awhile longer. Besides, if Renamon could push through the pain for him, that he could do the same for her.

"Pretty fast," he finally responded.

"That's good to hear. Now, try and keep up if you can."

With that said, Jijimon turned, readied himself, and ran back the way he had come and, for a man who claimed to be as old as the Digital World itself, he ran pretty quick.

Andrew had to really hustle to keep up, but the problem wasn't speed, it was all of the underbrush: thick tangles of weeds, fallen trees, deep puddles, all threatening to trip him up, forcing Andrew to swerve and jump like he was running some kind of obstacle course.

He tried his best to keep Viximon safe and still in his arms, but all the running and jumping had shaken her into at least some form of consciousness, but not awareness. The fever seemed to be causing her to hallucinate. From time to time she would call out a random name or have quiet conversations with people who weren't there, of which Andrew could only hear her side. Half of the time her eyes were closed and her words were too mumbled to hear, but every once in a while she would cry out something audible, but seemingly random. It was as if she were reliving pieces of her life inside of her own head.

"Tokomon, you jerk," she called out at one point. "You give that back, that's... that's my dessert..."

Her voice faded away at the end and she settled back into his arms. Seeing her like this hurt him. She had always been so strong, maybe even invincible in his eyes, but now here she was half out of her mind from the sickness raging through her body. Whenever she wasn't sweating or shivering, she was talking with spirits only she could see. He was going to help her, though. He swore he was going to help her.

For the most part Andrew kept his eyes either on Jijimon who ran ahead of them or on whatever obstacle was coming up ahead, but just then he felt the strong urge to look down the way some people suddenly look in one direction or another because they feel eyes upon them. Just as he had felt, Viximon's eyes were now half over and looking up at him and Andrew couldn't help but marvel at how those eyes, once so intense that they could freeze the blood in your veins, now looked so helpless. They were also partly glazed, leading Andrew to believe that Viximon might have been awake, but not really all there. As if to prove this point, she then spoke up.

"Why do you want to leave me?" She asked sounding like a frightened child.

Andrew felt the almost overpowering urge to stop dead in his tracks at the question, but forced his legs to keep moving. Time was not their friend today and every second counted.

"W-what do you mean?" He asked, not sure if Viximon would even hear him, and while she did respond, Andrew didn't think it was because of anything he said.

"You... you're going to leave. You're going to go home and I'm going to be alone and I don't wanna be alone. Not anymore..."

An idea struck Andrew just then, one so painfully obvious that he could have kicked himself for not coming up with it sooner.

"Is that why you were acting so cold?" he said, "because of what I asked Clayton about the digimite? Did you think I was really going to just leave you behind?"

No answer came from Viximon. Her eyes were shut and she seemed to be asleep once more, but Andrew didn't think he was far from the truth.

After another ten solid minutes of running, Jijimon lead them to the front door of a modest wood cabin build into a clearing. Despite its small size, the home was surprisingly well built and maintained and could probably withstand years of harsh weather.

The front door to the home swung open as they neared and Andrew saw an elderly woman, whom he guessed to be Babamon, with long grey hair pulled up into a no-nonsense bun, wearing a flowing robe, and holding a broom upside down just like her husband's walking stick, stepped out. From inside the house Andrew thought he could smell baking bread mixed in with a number of exotic spices.

"Where have you been, you old fool! You had me scared half to death, you did! And another thing-" Babamon, who seemed to ready to rant at her husband for the rest of the morning, saw the stranger who had trailed up beside her husband, and who he held in his arms. Her voice suddenly softened making her almost sound like a different person. "Oh! Oh! Oh, what's this, now? Who are you, son? What's wrong with the girl?"

"The boy's name is Andrew," Jijimon said in his place. "Judging by the smell of 'em, I think they came outta the out sewer ways-"

"Oh, my!"

"-and they got tangled up in something nasty down there. The little one needs some medicine. I told em you might know what might do the trick."

"Of course I can," the woman said as she crossed over to Andrew. "Please, might I see your friend?"

The boy was still reluctant to let anyone touch Viximon, but since he had little choice to do anything else, Andrew bent down on one knee and held out the girl to Babamon who placed her hand on Viximon's forehead first with her palm and then the back of her hand.

"She's got a nasty virus inside her all right, poor little thing. You should be more careful, you know! What kind of person would-"

"Woman," her husband interrupted, not unkindly, and shook his head as if to say 'not now'. Babamon seemed to take the hint.

"I can help," She said. "Take her inside and place her on the bed. I'll be with you as soon as I find what I need." With that said, the woman turned around and went back into her house with Jijimon and Andrew (who had to duck to clear the door) following close behind.

As Andrew walked through the kitchen and towards the bedroom, he saw Babamon open up a tall cabinet that went from floor to ceiling. Inside where hundreds of glass jars of all different sizes each containing some kind of ground up powder. Babamon scanned over one row with her finger like someone trying to find a specific book on a crowded library shelf. She didn't seem to find what she wanted because she then turned her attention to the next row up.

Inside the bedroom, which was little more than just a room with a bed in it, Andrew tried to make Viximon as comfortable as possible. She still mumbled something every now and then to Digimon Andrew could not see, but her outbursts seemed to have stopped. Andrew wasn't sure if this was a good thing or not.

After getting Viximon situated Andrew sat down on the bed beside her, partly to be close to her, and partly because standing up in this home build for someone half his own size meant he had to hunch over slightly. As he waited the boy began to slowly stroke the back of his hand over the top of Viximon's head; trying to comfort her a little. From the other room he could hear the Jijimon and Babamon moving around and talking, but their tones were so quiet he couldn't make out a single word.

There then came the high pitched whine of a tea kettle and a few minutes later the elderly couple came in holding a cup of greenish tea. Jijimon waited by the doorway while his wife crossed over to the bed, sitting down on the opposite side of Andrew.

"Would you mind raising her head, deary? I need to make sure she drinks every drop."

Moving as carefully as he could, Andrew raised Viximon up slightly so the liquid could pour easily down her throat without choking her. The boy was worried at first, but to Babamon's credit she worked as gently as a loving grandmother, first letting only a few drops fall onto Viximon's tongue before pouring in a little bit more. After making sure everything went down she poured in a little more. This process was repeated until the entire cup was drained.

"There," she said, using a piece of cloth to dry Viximon's lips. "That should help."

"Will she get better now?" Andrew asked, allowing himself just the faintest gleam of hope.

"With some rest she should," Babamon replied. "The medicine in the tea should help fight off the fever. In a few hours I'll brew up another batch for her to drink."

"A few _hours_? I'm sorry, but we don't really have a lot of time to-"

"Hush," Babamon said, her voice still sweet, but very forceful. "Do you care about this girl?"

"What kind of question is-"

"Do you care about this girl," she repeated.

"Yes! Of course I do!"

"Than let her rest. The last thing she needs is to be dragged all over creation in this condition. I'm telling you; the best thing for her now will be some peace and quiet."

Andrew cast his gaze down on Viximon. Her eyes were still closed and her breathing was still rough, but the shivering had stopped. Whatever Babamon had given her seemed to be working already. Feeling shame wash over him for causing all of this trouble, Andrew dropped his head.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I-I haven't even thanked you for saving her. I'm just... scared. If something were to happen to her I don't know what I would do."

The boy felt a pair of warm hands wrap around one of his own. Looking up, he saw Babamon was wearing a warm smile. "You don't need to explain to me. I might be old, but I remember what it's like to be young and hot-headed. If you had met me back in my prime, oh, you wouldn't have believed it was me. Now, if you really want to say thanks, why don't you help my good-for-nothing husband gather some wood for the stove? Don't worry about your friend, I'll keep a close eye on her."

"You'll let me know if anything changes?"

"Swear it."

Andrew nodded and stood up, minding he didn't hit his head on the ceiling.

"Come on, son," Jijimon said. "I'll show you where the wood pile is hidden. You just follow me and on the way we'll have us a bit of a chat. Call me crazy, but I get the feeling that you and me have a lot to discuss."

Andrew wouldn't have called him crazy, not unless he was too, because the boy had the same feeling, almost like something had united the two of them together for a reason. You could call _Andrew_ crazy, but it almost felt like... fate.

**To be continued.**


	19. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

Andrew was lead around to the back of the modest home where a pile of logs had been stacked in a tidy triangular shape.

"Why don't you do an old man a favor and grab a couple of them," Jijimon said. "Between my age and this cane it's hard for me to carry more than a few at a time."

Seeing the nimble way Jijimon had lead him through the jungle, really forcing Andrew to pick up the pace, he seriously doubted that carrying a few pieces of wood would be any kind of trying task for the man, but seeing as Jijimon and his wife had already done so much for Viximon and himself, Andrew supposed he owed him enough to pretend to be fooled for now.

Starting from the top of the pile Andrew removed four good sized pieces of wood, hesitated for a moment, and then added one more. They weren't heavy, but defiantly awkward to carry. Jijimon reached over into the pile himself and removed one single piece.

"That should do just fine," he said. "Come on. Let's bring these back inside."

The two of them made their way around the building once more. Jijimon opened the door and allowed Andrew to slip through before entering himself. As he walked into the kitchen, Andrew managed a quick peek into the bedroom. There he could see Viximon still sleeping on the bed. Babamon was next to her in a rocking chair she had pulled up from somewhere within the house. In her lap was a ball of yarn she appeared to be knitting, but she was far too early in the process for Andrew to tell just what the finished product was going to be. As he peeked, Andrew was struck by just how odd this world was. One minute he was running for his life from monsters down in the sewer and now he was standing in the home of what could have been anyone's grandparents.

There had been times earlier on when the boy really began to question his sanity, if any of this could be real. Any such questions had long since been swept away; there was no way he had the imagination to come up with anything like this.

"Just stack them on the floor by the stove," Jijimon instructed as the two entered the kitchen.

Doing as he was told, the boy looked around to get his first real inspection of their home. Before he was too worried about Viximon to notice anything else, but now he really got to see how cozy this small home nestled in the middle of a tropical jungle was.

The floors were a light wood, same as the walls. In the far corner of the room stood the tall cabinet from which Babamon had been searching for whatever she put into the tea. Next to that was a row of counters and followed and turned along the wall; hanging above each were more cabinets which were at perfect arms length for Andrew, but he guessed the others would have to reach to get whatever they needed.

At the end of the countertops stood a wood fire stove, next to which Andrew began to stack the wood in the same triangle as outside. Behind him stood a small table with two chairs, a tablecloth, and a vase full of colorful flowers in the center. The whole place reminded Andrew of a child's playhouse, albeit a very detailed one.

While the boy was stacking the wood for the stove and admiring the architecture, Jijimon had slipped back into the bedroom to check on their other guest. As he was walking back out, he caught the boy's eye and seemed to guess his question before Andrew even had the chance to open his mouth to speak it.

"Still sound asleep," he said. "But the fever seems to be breaking and that's good thing. I'd still give the girl some more time to rest if I were you. In the meantime, why don't you follow me outside and give and old man someone to talk to other than that mean bitty." Jijimon nodded his head back towards the bedroom door.

"I heard that, you fool," Babamon called from the other room. "And this mean bitty has half a mind to come out then and clot you right across your empty head!"

"Eh, go back to your knitting, woman!"

Andrew chuckled in spite of himself. The two might have been arguing, yes, but the undertone of affection was unmistakable. He was willing to bet that at night as they shared their bed and stopped their arguing, they still loved each other.

As they stepped back outside into warm, muggy air Jijimon told the boy there was something he wanted to show him a little deeper into the woods and asked if he wouldn't mind a bit of a walk. Andrew said that was fine and began to follow the old man. The pace he sat was now much slower than when he was leading the boy back to his home. Then he had to hustle to keep up, now he had to really slow down to not pass Jijimon.

"So, if I don't miss my guess, you're a human child, right?" the old man asked without really asking.

"Yes, sir."

"And you're from the Human World, what's sometimes called around here as the Real World?"

Andrew once again said yes.

"Real World," Jijimon snorted. "Never much cared for that name. Makes it sound like this place is nothing but make believe, like its fake or something. Let me ask you something, son; does this place feel fake to you?" Without waiting for a reply, Jijimon kept talking. "Of course it don't! You can feel the heat in the air, can't ya? Smell the flowers, hear the birds? It's all here and it's all real. Oh, well. That's neither here nor there, I suppose, just something to think about."

Andrew, who had thought about it many times, respectfully kept his mouth shut and allowed the old man to keep going. "So, let me ask you this; are you one of them 'DigiDestined'?"

"That's what I keep hearing," Andrew answered.

"You have a Digivice, then?"

"Yes, sir."

"Would you mind terribly if I had a look?"

Fishing into his right pocket, Andrew pulled out the device. Sooner or later he was going to have to find something to attach it to his belt loop so he didn't lose it as he did his cell phone. Andrew had no idea when he had lost that piece of plastic; the other day he just reached into his pockets and fond it gone. He could have lost it as far back as the Daycare for all he knew, but it wasn't like the thing was doing him any good in the first place; it's battery was running down and Andrew could never get a signal, anyway.

Andrew held out his Digivice, thinking he should probably be more cautious about handing over something so powerful and important, but the boy felt as though he could trust the old man. If he were really a threat, than there a dozen chances to attack before now.

If there were any suspicions of Jijimon taking the device and running, then they were ill-founded. The old man simple turned it over in his hand a few times; seeming to inspect it and admire it simultaneously before handing it back.

"That's a Digivice, all right," he said, his voice sounding a little frayed around the edges. "You are a Destined. I was afraid of that, No offence."

"None taken. Um, can I ask why?"

Jijimon sighed and took several seconds to collect his thoughts. He looked like he was trying to put his words in order, maybe filter out what was important from what was just trash. After a minute he seemed satisfied enough and began to talk once more.

"Lately I have been having these bad dreams. Now, if dreams were all I thought they were than I'd be talking about them no more than the bunions on my feet. I'm not a superstitious man. I've got no problems walkin' under a ladder and you won't be catchin' me throwing salt over my shoulder any time soon, but when a man starts to have the same horrible dream over and over again, he starts to wonder if they might not be a warning."

"What are the dreams about?" Andrew dared, tossing Jijimon a worried glance.

"Death, destruction, corruption, and just about every other nasty thing you can think of," was the answer he got. "As I've told ya, I've been around for a dang long time and this ain't the first time I've felt this world being threatened, but I've never had dreams like this. It's like things are wrapping up. The end is coming, but I don't know to what. I suppose the obvious answer would be 'to the world', but somehow that just doesn't feel right."

"The Final Destined," Andrew said, thinking of the things the Elder had told him a lifetime ago. "The final children who will rise and decide the fate of the Digital World for all time."

"Is that what you are?" Jijimon asked in a hushed tone. "Is this the end?"

Andrew shook his head. "No. Not me, not yet. Apparently that will be a battle that will be fought without me, but..." Andrew turned his gaze up to the treetops that towered far above their heads. "But I would still join it in a heartbeat. After seeing this world; how beautiful it is and meeting the people who live in it... I would still fight even if I wasn't called back. Of course, that's all assuming I don't screw things up now, none of this will mater if I can't track down the Dark Lord and put an end to him."

"You will," Jijimon said. "Not because you have to, but because you can. You're much stronger than you think. You remind me a lot of the last human I saw back before the misses and I packed up and moved here."

"Really, who?" he asked, interested in hearing about those who might have come before him.

"Oh, the name as long since escaped me. This was so many years ago, you see. The point is, she was just as brave as you are and she succeeded in her battle, no reason why you can't either."

Andrew nodded, hoping that the man was right. It was funny to think of how Andrew once believed he knew what the weight of the world on his shoulders felt like before coming here and finding what it really was. At least he wasn't in this fight alone. He had made so many friends along the way. For all of their sakes, the boy would not fail.

"So, uh, this girl," Andrew prodded, "did she come to you for help, too?'

"No. As I remember it, her Digimon did throw me and the misses down our stairs."

"Oh." The boy elected to close the subject, deciding that maybe some things were better off not knowing, after all.

Up ahead the two came across a tall tree. Around the trunk a spiral wooden staircase had been built apparently leading all the way up to the top.

"Here we are," Jijimon said. "Follow me."

Andrew did just that as they closed the small gap between them and approached the tree. The boy had to be very careful on the stairs. Even though they were very sturdy and could easily hold their weight, the steps (just like everything in the house) had been build to fit the old couple's size, meaning Andrew could only get half of his shoe on any given step. One false move and if he was lucky all he would do is fall forward on his face. If not, well, he'd be heading back to the ground the hard way.

Holding on to the railing (something else that was too short for him), making Andrew regret his thought back in Koemon Village about how good it felt to be around creatures finally smaller than he was.

_Well, be careful what you wish for, right?_

The two moved around and around, up and up, higher and higher until they started moving into the leaves. Jijimon or his wife had apparently cut a tunnel though the branches and leaves which formed a clear path for the two of them to pass through. Finally Andrew mounted the final steps and stepped into the floor build above the tree, which reminded Andrew of the deer stands hunters sometimes used. It was rectangular in shape with a railing build around all sides to keep anyone from accidentally going over the edge.

From up here Andrew would see the landscape from all around him. Behind him were the mountains, now retreating from their once intimidating size. To the east the jungle stretched on as far as he could see. To the west Andrew was able to see the waterfall he thought he had heard earlier as well as the river it led into, and to the north-

The boy stopped, eyebrows frowning as the enjoyment on his face faded away.

"You see it, too, don't ya?" Jijimon said, soberly. "It showed up about the same time my dreams began."

"It looks like... a storm brewing, but..."

The old Digimon finished Andrew's thought for him. "But it doesn't feel like a storm. There's no thunder, no lighting, just that darkness and I'll tell you this, my friend; it's getting bigger."

What Jijimon said was true; off to the north, far in the distance and just barely noticeable from here, the sky had turned dark. From here it was no more than a tiny splotch in the sky like a spilled drop of black paint, but there was something very wrong with it. Andrew realized that it was because that darkness really was like paint spilled over another picture; the sky didn't gradually turn grey and dark like it should, but rather in once place everything was blue and clear as it was here, and in the next: blackness, almost like a curtain. It wasn't completely dark, Andrew could still see into it, but it was almost as if whatever energy was over there was eating away at the very sun.

Despite the heat, Andrew suddenly felt very cold.

"He's over there, isn't he?" Andrew asked. "It's whatever horrible place someone like the Dark Lord could call home, and it's _right over there_."

They had come for miles across forests, oceans, mountains, and plains, and now they were almost at the doorstep of the ultimate evil. There were still a few miles to go between here and there, but it was impossible to tell how many; the distance from up here was hard to guess at and besides; Jijimon said the darkness was growing.

"I first saw it a week ago," Jijimon said, nearly startling Andrew. "The wife was being particularly grouchy that day so I decided I'd come up here for a few hours to get away. That's when I saw it. At the time it was no more than just a tiny speck on the horizon. At first I couldn't tell if what I was seeing was real or if my old eyes were finally failing. After some time of lookin' I just gave up and left, but I did come back the next day and it was still there and I thought... I thought it looked bigger than before. I didn't want to believe it then. Even from this far away there was something about it that gave me the jeebies, yet I kept coming back day in and day out. Each time it got a little bigger and a little closer and I'll tell you one more disturbing thing: I think it's speeding up."

Jijimon walked over next to Andrew and rested his arms across the railing. While the boy could not see the look on his face, the tone of the old man's voice was unmistakable; fear and sorrow.

"I can't tell you the number of times I've thought about just grabbing the misses and running away. We've moved several times before, this would just be another. We'd pack up everything we could and just head as far away from the blackness as possible; just keep running and then run a little more. But every time I thought I was going to do it, something stopped me. It was like... like..."

"Like a feeling," Andrew said, not taking his eyes off the horizon. "A voice whispering into the back of your mind telling you where you needed to be."

"Why, yes. Yes, that's it almost exactly. You speak as if you know of it."

Andrew nodded again. Of course he knew of it; wasn't that exactly why he was here in this world at all? Leaving the house on that day to get away from his mother and the fighting, hadn't Andrew walked farther than he ever had before into a part of the city he had never been? At the time he just kept walking, obediently following is feet at they took him farther away from home and closer to an alley where something of his was waiting to be found, and what happened every time he thought he should turn back? Why, there was a feeling, almost like a voice, telling him no; he had to keep walking forward just for a bit longer. He had to keep going. There was somewhere he had to be and it wasn't here so it must be there.

Once upon a time a much quieter, weaker, angrier Andrew thought he was walking just because the fight had been worse than usual, because his head wasn't clear enough yet and he just wanted to be alone. Now his eyes had opened and he could see there were so many forces that spanned so many worlds. It was amazing anything ever got done at all.

"I told ya'," Jijimon was saying. "I'm not a superstitious man, but I ain't a stupid one either. If I hadn't had stayed than I never would have been out for my morning walk and then... well..."

Jijimon was too kind to say it, but Andrew knew what he meant. If Jijimon had not have been there than things would have changed dramatically. It seemed as though his life had been haunted by 'random encounters' lately. First Renamon, then Trailmon, Koemon, now Jijimon. Each person leading him a little closer to whatever it was that waited up ahead, and each one should have been so easy to miss, and yet here they were. If he could go back and speak to them all again, how many would confess to feeling something like a voice of intuition talking to them as well?

Speaking of Renamon, he wanted to go back now and make sure she was okay. Maybe it was just that blackness north of them that was making him uneasy, but Andrew really didn't like to be too far away from her.

"I'd like to go back now, if that's okay," he said, already moving away from the edge.

"Sure thing. We had us our little talk and I showed you what I wanted to. Besides, I get the feeling that whatever it was that needed to be said, has been."

Andrew felt the same thing, so with that, the two headed back, this time walking in silence. Even though from here Andrew couldn't see the darkness, he thought he could still feel it, like a weight pressing down.

As they approached the house the boy saw that Babamon was had moved her rocker to the front porch. The knitting was still in her lap, and was now beginning to take the shape of an oven mitt.

"What'ca doin' out here, woman," Jijimon asked of his wife. "Why ain't you watchin' over this one's friend?"

Upon hearing the voice of her husband, Babamon stood up and dropped her work onto the seat of her chair. "There you are, you coot! I've darn near lost my voice calling for you!"

"It's a shame that you didn't! Then I wouldn't have to hear you squawking in my ear all blasted day and night!"

"Don't you talk to me like that, you old fool!" she shot back "I'm you loving wife and you'll remember that if you know what's good for you!"

"Um, excuse me..." Andrew broke in.

Babamon blinked and looked over at boy. She seemed to have forgotten he was even there. "Oh! Yes! Sorry. Your friend's awake now. My tea is powerful stuff, you see. But... she's, um, different looking now…"

"What do you mean by that?" Jijimon asked.

"What I mean is she's not the same Digimon you brought in. She's, um, taller now." Babamon turned to her husband and spoke directly to him. "You remember the one from our last home in the valley? Well..."

"Oh? Oh!" Jijimon was now the one talking to Andrew. Maybe it was just his imagination, but the man actually sounded a little ill at ease. "I'll tell you what son; me and the misses will just wait out here. You probably want to be alone with your friend, so just come and get us later, okay?"

Andrew, a little confused but too happy to hear Renamon was okay (and back), agreed and entered the house. From behind him he could hear the couple talking in the same hushed tones as before.

When the boy entered the bedroom, forcing himself to walk instead of running like he wanted to, he saw Renamon sitting on the edge of the bed. Between her hands sat a steaming cup of green tea that she was blowing on to cool. Andrew thought it was probably more of the same stuff she had been given earlier.

The fox's head moved in his direction and their eyes met. For several moments neither of them said anything. Andrew was simply too happy to see her okay again to speak and as for Renamon; well, who knew what thoughts were hid behind that cool, indifferent face.

Andrew thought that he would be the first to break the silence, and was amazed to find that it was Renamon, but not nearly as amazed as the first to words out of her mouth:

"I'm sorry," she said.

"W-what?" he blinked.

Renamon gently placed her cup on the end table next to the bed before sliding over, giving Andrew room to come and sit down next to her.

"I've been acting very cold towards you when you've showed me nothing but kindness and, for that, I'm sorry. I don't remember everything after getting out of the sewers. I do recall feeling very light headed and then passing out after that there's a lot of blanks, but I can remember that I De-Digivolved into Viximon and you had to carry me."

"Is that what that's called?" Andrew asked as he slid in next to Renamon.

"It's what happens when a Digimon becomes too weak to hold their current form. Sometimes the cause can be as simple as hunger, mine was the fever." Renamon shifted slightly as if uncomfortable, "The next thing I know I'm waking up here, but if I remember correctly while you were carrying me I said some things that were quite... embarrassing; things I would greatly appreciate we not talk about. So, let's just say that I'm sorry and leave it at that."

Andrew, who had said his own share of embarrassing things back when he was oh-so sure Renamon was dying, was more than happy to let the whole thing drop. It was a strange thing to think about, let alone talk about; strange, but not unpleasant.

"Maybe later we can?" he suggested.

Renamon turned her head away, but Andrew thought he saw some red crawl across her cheeks. "Maybe."

"I'm just glad you're okay... you do feel okay, right?"

"Just fine now that I've had some rest," she told him as she turned back. "Now, I suggest we go before we overstay our welcome. After I had enough strength to become Renamon again, that old woman couldn't seem to get out of the room fast enough; kept mumbling something about stairs."

The boy smiled, but said nothing on the topic.

To their credit, Jijimon and Babamon did offer to cook a dinner for the two, but it was an offer that they passed.

"There's still plenty of light left in the day," Renamon had explained to her. "I think it's a good idea that we use it."

Babamon seemed relieved, but tried not to show it.

They had already had one dinner cooked in their honor, it was probably something they best not get used to the treatment, less they be spoiled by it. Besides, there really was several hours of daylight left and with the thing up ahead growing in size by the day, they really needed to hustle, so they waved goodbye to the elderly couple who had unknowingly worked with fate and brought the tamer and Digimon back on track.

There were still miles to go and much to be done, but their goal was now in sight and soon they would be standing against the very creature they've heard so much about, but have seen none of.

They would make him answer for his crimes and pay for his sins. The innocent of this world would not suffer any longer under the spreading darkness, or at least; these were the things Andrew said to psyche himself up. He was afraid, but he would stand firm as he knew he would, yet despite how bad thing had been and the evils he had seen, he somehow could not sake the feeling that worst had yet come.

**To be continued.**


	20. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

This time it was Andrew's turn to recap missed events, and since Renamon had managed to swallow her own pride and tell him everything that occurred while he was out, Andrew thought it was only fair that he try to do the same. So as the two slowly made their way through the jungle (no neatly formed pathways here, only miles of heavy underbrush, fallen branches, and vines; not to mention the occasional root sticking up out of the ground threatening to send any inattentive passerby sprawling) the boy had told Renamon everything after they pulled themselves out of the sewers. At one point Andrew might have found a manhole situated in the grass inside of a jungle to be strange, to say the least. However, one of the things he had come to find out from this place was that the Digital World played by its own rules; logic and reason took a backseat and it was either accept this world as it was, or be driven mad by it.

The boy told her that soon after getting back onto dry land that she had collapsed from the injuries she obtained earlier and the many bacteria that came with it. He also tried to explain the way that he felt when he thought she was dying, the fear and loneliness mixed with the subtle realization that he was about to lose someone else deeply important to him.

Andrew dared a glance over to the fox to see what her reaction might be towards his feelings, but her face revealed nothing and she said not a word. Sometimes her lack expression drove him crazy; it was like trying to guess what a cat was thinking. This was something else he would just have to accept, it seemed, even if he didn't like it.

After deciding that she wasn't going to open up one way or another, Andrew went on with the story, telling her how Jijimon had showed up then and said his wife could help. He skirted over the race to their home and Renamon's (or rather; Viximon's) delirium, but only because of Renamon's earlier request. Funny how she went as far as apologizing for her coldness yet still refused to talk about anything remotely emotional. For now he would honor her wish, but he found himself really wanting to know what exactly was going on in that head of hers. How could they really be partners if they kept one another at arm's length? Andrew supposed there was a bit of irony in that, seeing as he spent most of his life trying to do that exact same thing with everyone around him, making sure that he never got too close to anyone and, therefore, could never be hurt by them and now here he was complaining about having the goal he consistently worked at all of his conscious life.

It was just that Renamon was different from anyone he had met before, somehow; and not just in the obvious way. There was something about her as a whole, everything that made up who she was, that interested him; caused him to want to know more and more about her. He just wished he understood why.

If Renamon could have heard these thoughts, she would have understood. After all; she had lived her life the same way and was now grappling with the same set of... unsettling problems.

As the day continued to burn out around them the boy got to the important part of his story: where they were now, where they needed to go, and what was waiting for them just up ahead. It was a destination they would not reach today or even tomorrow if they were forced to keep moving at this slow pace, but the fact of the matter was this: their objective was closer than it ever had been before. From down here the darkness was impossible to see and could have been easily ignored if not for the fact that it seemed to have gravity to it, a kind of magnetic force, but defiantly not one that attracted.

Every step that Andrew took seemed to gain a tiny speck of weight greater than the one before as if something were pushing back. He would like to say that they were only walking against the breeze, but the air had turned perfectly still. In his head the boy imagined two magnets of the same pole trying to be pushed together and that invisible force that tried to keep them apart. That was what this was like and the entire environment seemed to agree: clouds in the sky broke up overhead as if hitting some kind of wall. The sounds of the other creatures in the jungle thickness gradually became less and less as if they too could feel what was heading their way and chose to make themselves as scarce as possible.

Being this close to their goal as well as this Dark Lord felt strange, like getting here had taken too long and at the same time; no time at all. Several times Andrew tried to imagine what such a Digimon could look like, and could not. The boy thought of Datamon who was able to take control of the minds and bodies of the innocent using the Dark Rings so they would fight for him and work his factory to make more of the unholy devices without a shred of remorse.

There was Minotarumon who was easily able to survive the harsh, constant winter of the Frozen Peaks until reaching Koemon Village where he would have destroyed everyone and everything inside to get what he wanted. Andrew had the feeling that, even if the Koemon had surrendered, they would have been crushed anyway for the fun of it.

Then there was their latest opponent: LadyDevimon. She seemed deeply intelligent, extremely cunning, and completely lacking mercy. The boy had no doubts about how close they came to dying on that day. It had been the Professor and the Koemon, of all people, who had saved their hides.

Unless Andrew missed his guess (and he didn't think he had) these were the three generals the Elder told them about. Two of them here gone and one still waited along with the others she called Dracmon and another she referred to only as 'that annoying little bird' between Andrew, Renamon, and The Dark Lord.

Andrew found the idea that this one man was not only able together such a roster of heartless individuals, but also had them working for his own purpose to be deeply disturbing. Here was a creature either so powerful or so awe inspiring that these other Digimon who, to Andrew, seemed to care about nothing but their own desires, bowed down before him.

_And we have to stop him,_ Andrew thought with growing dismay. _Just the two of us._

That evening the river Andrew had seen earlier in the day had either run around to meet them or this was a branch of it. This part was smaller and shallower than before and while it was too deep and wide to be called a creek, it was defiantly not the fast moving waterway he had spied from the top of the trees. The two had both grown very tired of the stink of sewage and agreed that this would be as good of a place as any to bathe, though not at the same time, of course.

Renamon told Andrew to go first while she scouted around for someplace level enough to make camp. There was still a good hour or two of light left, but Renamon reasoned that they had a hectic day and deserved the early rest, besides; she was still feeling a little groggy herself.

Andrew accepted this easily enough, but wondered if Renamon didn't feel the same kind of weight from the north that be did and wanted to be well bunked down by nightfall. Actually, he was willing to bet money that she did.

Their progress since leaving the home of Jijimon and Babamon had been very slow going. It was true that they did have to be mindful of what was underfoot, but that was no real excuse for their pace. There was just the feeling of dread that baked off of the very air making them move at a snails pace like a convict walking down the prison block for the last time on his way to execution. The boy didn't want to think of things like that, like they were walking towards their demise, but he just couldn't help it.

The fear was getting Andrew so worked up that he suddenly didn't want to wash up. The thought of being naked and alone here made him feel too... exposed. He might have just skipped it all together if the stink of sweat and sewage weren't so strong. Finally, after several minutes of debating, the need to feel clean again won out of his superstitions.

After a look around to make sure he really was alone, Andrew began to slip out of his clothes; first the backpack and tennis shoes (now much dirtier and worn that when he started) then his socks. Next came the t-shirt and jeans. The underwear, he decided, would stay on until he had a chance to rise out his other pieces of clothing.

Putting his shoes and the pack aside, the boy brought the rest of his clothes to the edge of the river where he dipped them into the clear, clean (but cold) water. He splashed them around for a bit, trying his best to get out the dirt sweat without access to so much as a washboard, before ringing them out and draping them over a low branch to dry.

With that done the only thing left to do was wash himself. The boy made his way in slowly, trying to adjust his body to the cold water, which he thought was mostly melted snow from the Peaks. Eventually he was able to settle himself in all the way and began to wash away day's worth of dirt and grime from his hair and body.

Until now Andrew had only managed to clean up a little here and there, but this was his first real bath, and as much as he would have loved to find a hot water faucet and turn it on full blast, the sensation of finally getting clean was nice enough. It was funny how sometimes the simplest of things, like taking a bath, could do wonders for the moral. Andrew was still very aware of what was waiting up ahead and what consequences would come of their next few actions, but for now the boy felt, well, content and that was good enough for him.

**O O O**

The spot Renamon had picked out for camp was small, but with as thick as the jungle was, it was really the best she could manage. At least it was flat and mostly free of underbrush, giving them enough room to lie down.

With the campsite decided Renamon went to work finding firewood; something that proved to be much harder than it was in her woods. Most of what she found was still too green or wet to burn and by the time she was back at the camp she didn't have much to show for her efforts, but it was better than nothing, she supposed.

Renamon had thought that being back in a forest environment would make her feel more at home, but instead it only reminded her of how far out of her element she really was. The jungle might have been somewhat similar to her home, but than a sandbox was somewhat similar to a desert, now wasn't it?

After dropping off the pathetic bundle of wood she had found, Renamon counted off what she thought was long enough time for the boy to bathe and dress again before heading back for him. As she closed in, Renamon kept her ears open for any sounds of splashing in the water that might indicate that he was still cleaning, but heard none. As she stepped out of the thicket of trees and towards the river's edge (making as much noise as she could as a final warning of her arrival) she saw the boy sitting on a large rock completely dressed save for one sock which he was ringing out between his hands.

"I hate wet socks," he said as he slipped the item of clothing back on. "There's nothing worse in the world."

Renamon pointed down at her own bare feet, wiggling her toes. "Wouldn't know."

After the boy had his shoes back on and had picked up the pack containing the rest of their food Renamon pointed him in the direction of their camp which was just a straight shot from where they were now and should be easy enough to spot. Still, she asked if he wanted her to show him. Andrew declined, but in a tone of voice that made Renamon wonder if the boy thought she was making fun of him.

Unlike Andrew, Renamon didn't bother to wait to be alone before getting into the water since she had nothing to take off and little to hide. When the boy dared one small peek over his shoulder, Renamon decided to pretend not to notice, even if she wasn't quite sure why it amused her to do so.

The fox had never even seen a bathtub in her life let alone used one, so she knew nothing of hot and cold faucets, shampoos, body washes, or fresh towels. To her bathing in a cold lake or river was just a mundane activity. Long ago she had grown used to the chilly water and learned to ignore it.

After submerging herself a few times to get her body completely used to the change in temperature, Renamon lazed by the edge with her arms propped up and her eyes gazing off into nothing as the current gently flowed through her fur.

Normally she made it a rule during her baths to not worry about anything; to just let her mind blissfully wander away while she relaxed and got clean at the same time. This was Renamon's 'me' time and she took them very seriously, but it figured that even this had grown complicated for her the same way everything had in her life recently.

Renamon took in a deep breath and slowly let it back out, thinking that everything was so much easier back when Andrew was only 'the boy' or at best: 'Rookie'. Back then it was so easy to dismiss him and be angry with him. She could blame everything on him and use him as a verbal (and sometimes physical) punching bag for her own frustrations, but then the complications really began. She had told herself that it was Andrew's selfless sacrifice of himself that truly made her like him, and while that moment was a real turning point to say it was the only one would be a lie. The truth was, as much as she hated to admit it, that she had been slowly growing to like the kid all along. Seeing him risk his life for hers only sped up the process. Everything had been fine before except that boy just had to be so nice, so damn _innocent _that Renamon began to think of him as-

As what? One of her own? No, that wasn't quite right. If that's all that their relationship had become; a kind of kinship, than she wouldn't be sitting here right now racking her brains out trying to figure out just what was going on in her life.

No, if everything had stopped there and Andrew had stayed only as a friend to her or at most; a kind of son, than she could have accept and live with that, maybe even enjoy it. This, though, this was something much more confusing. She hated it, and she loved it. She embraced it, and she shunned it.

The idea had gotten into her mind that the best thing she could do was push him as far away from herself as she could, at least emotionally. If she didn't care about him than she couldn't get upset when events reached their only possibly conclusion and he went back home. She had thought then she would be able to pick up exactly where she had left off and everything could go on same as before, only that didn't work, did it? Even when she was trying not to care, she couldn't stop protecting him. It wasn't necessarily because he needed her to; Andrew had proven many times that while he might not always be able to straight up fight, he was clever enough to discover other ways past an obstacle rather than plow through; a lesson which she had really yet to learn.

Up until now she had at least been able to keep these thoughts to herself, and yet even that small piece of security had been yanked away when, in her delirium, she went and spilled her biggest fear right to the boy's face. Even now she held only the faintest memory of doing it and zero idea of what her motives were.

What did recall was that she was lying on her back looking up at the boy as the tree tops rushed passed above his head. Every bit of her body ached with a kind of dull, numb heat despite the fact she was freezing cold. Her memories were mostly a blur before and after that, but in that one moment she could remember looking at the boy and thinking how brave he was, how handsome he was, and how she wanted him all for herself. She didn't know if these thoughts were real or if they were just another crazy idea cooked up by her high fever and confused mind (and she really hoped for the second), but either way she said what she said and now he knew. Never in her life had she felt so embarrassed.

Then, to make a bad situation worse, when Andrew told her of how he had felt when he was so sure that he was seeing her death rather than a simple De-Digivolution his words touched her heart in a way that simultaneously upsetting and exciting. To be cared for so much by the same boy she put though so much hell on a daily basis was nothing short of miraculous. Andrew was either a saint or a masochist.

When the boy spoke of these things, Renamon tried her best to hide her feelings from him and thought she succeeded. She didn't do it because she wanted to be cruel to him or ignore him, but simply because she didn't know what to say. Someone better than her or smarter than her might have known what the right words or actions were, but she didn't and she probably would never become that kind of person. It seemed the more she was with Andrew, the more she discovered what kind of person she really was and with each passing day the Renamon who had lived on her own, complete within herself, seemed more and more like a stranger.

With another deep sigh-Renamon seemed to be doing a lot of these lately-the fox decided that there was going to be no peace of mind for her here, so she pulled herself out of the water and back onto the grass where she shook herself dry, smoothed out her fur, and headed back towards the camp.

Andrew had managed to find some more wood while she was gone, saying that he had stumbled across a dead tree limb on the way and dragged it back where he broke off the dry bits before tossing the rest away, so it seemed like they were allowed a decent camp that night after all.

After they built their fire and ate their meals, the two got settled in for the night. By now they were both mostly dry; they were still probably going to pick up some dirt from the ground, but nothing that couldn't be brushed off. And as the boy lay on his back with his arms behind his head looking up that the broken patches of night sky though the trees he said:

"This place, this whole planet, is incredibly beautiful."

"Yeah," Renamon agreed. "It is."

The boy rolled over on his side so that he could look across the way at her and asked her a very serious question. "Do you think we can win," he asked. "Honestly? Do you really think we have a chance, and please don't lie to me. Even if you say no I'm still going to fight. There nothing that would make me stop now."

"Than why ask?" She favored him with a sidelong glance.

"I dunno. I guess I just want to know where we stand is all."

Renamon thought about it, _really_ thought about it for some time. She expected the boy to grow impatient and ask again, but he did not. Instead he only lay there unwearyingly watching her until she answered.

What they were going up against was strong and they were going to be two against who knew how many, yet she still somehow felt confident and not because they had to win, but because they could win. They really, really could.

"Yes," she finally answered. "I don't think it will be easy, but. . .yes."

"You know what?" Andrew said, smiling in a way that made Renamon want to smile as well, "I do, too."

**O O O**

From what he had seen earlier Andrew had expected an almost actually wall of darkness, perhaps even some kind of physical blockade that would stop them from going any further. Wouldn't that have been a funny end to it all; all of known existence crushed just because they couldn't find a door? Yet they had found the blackness and they had stepped though without resistance.

While it wasn't a wall per-say, the change was anything but subtle; it was as if someone a turned down a dimmer switch on the sun. There was still enough light to move and see by, but there was a kind of gloom to it all that played tricks with your eyes. The area had the same mood of death that he had felt around Datamon's factory, yet there was not so much physical evidence this time around.

The jungle had gone completely quiet and except for their own footsteps and the faint ringing in his ears, Andrew could hear nothing at all. The boy now thought that he could see faces in the trees; wicked, evil, snarling things was huge teeth and sunken eyes that gazed upon him with murderous hate. The beautiful blue sky they had woken up to that morning in camp was now long gone replaced by low, dark clouds that seemed to constantly threaten to bring down the mother of all storms any second now and there would be no warning. The thunder and rain would just suddenly come and blow them all away; blow everything away. Nothing would survive.

Yet they kept walking. What they were seeing now was nothing more than a warning; a type of cheap scare used to keep the unwanted away from where the Dark Lord held his home. Maybe it would work on some, but not Renamon and not Andrew. They had come here with a purpose, one that they would see completed no matter what the cost. They were afraid, yes, but they would fight though the fear and if this would be their dying day (as it very well could be), so be it.

What by every account should have happened in the thickness of the jungle: a trap of some kind, one final massive push against the forces that dared to invade this place of darkness, never came. The two made their way deeper into the gloom and further into a darkness that held despite the time of day, yet nothing happened, and that only made Andrew more suspicious.

Renamon had lit a blue flame around her hand again to guide them just as she had in the mines and even this light seemed to be swallowed up by the air. Unconsciously the two had moved so close together that they were almost touching as the trees crowded in closer and closer until the sky was completely gone. The foliage became so thick that soon the two had to really work in order to slip through the brush and just as Andrew was starting to think that their path would soon grow so clustered that they would have to backtrack until Renamon found enough space to let them jump above the jungle, the undergrowth broke and Andrew found the were standing on the edge of a massive clearing. Beneath their feet was nothing but dark brown dirt without a sign of life growing from it, not so much as a single weed. The trees surrounded this clearing in a near perfect circle almost making Andrew feel like he had stepped into some kind of dome. Above them the sky had actually turned a crimson red through the thick clouds. If Jijimon were to see the land Andrew now stood upon, he would have thought the nightmares were coming to him in the middle of the day.

Situated in the middle of this nightmarish clearing where nothing grew and not a soul stirred, was a immense castle made from the blackest stone Andrew had ever seen. It looked just as rundown and decrepit as any he had seen on TV, yet there was one strange difference: this castle had no windows. Not even so much as a ragged hole in the wall. It seemed whoever built this place (assuming that a place such as this was built rather than spawned, which seemed to be a very good possibility) made sure there was no chance of real light entering the keep and the only way in or out was from the single entry way that stood closed before them.

"We're here," Renamon said, her voice nearing a whisper.

"Yeah," Andrew whispered back, his mouth suddenly feeling very dry. The boy reached out, found Renamon's hand, and grasped it. There was a feeling somewhat like relief when he felt her fingers close over his own. They were together. They could do this. Whatever it was that waited for them was strong, but they could be stronger. They had come this far and had been through much, and they would not fall now. "How do you think we get in?"

The double doors leading inside, each twice as tall as Renamon, suddenly swung open so hard that slammed against the stone walls one either side, one so hard that the frame cracked, giving off a bang so loud in the stillness of the air that it could have come from God himself. Only Andrwe didn't believe there was any soft of benevolent God here.

"I think we're being invited inside," Renamon said with a touch of forced humor.

"Renamon, this isn't right. This has got to be some kind of a trap."

"Oh, it is," she agreed, "but it's also our only was inside. You ready?"

The boy nodded and reluctantly began to move forward.

Andrew had seen plenty of horror movies in his time. His mother referred to these kind of films as 'trash' and practically forbid him from watching them, but of course Andrew did and his mother hatred of it only made it sweeter. It was safe to say that Andrew, who had seen just about everything from _House on Haunted Hill_ to _Friday the 13__th_, was fully expecting the doors to slam shut behind them, which they did, and for the doors to be locked when he tried to push one open again, which they were. It might have been the oldest cliché in the book, but it was so for a reason: it worked. They were now trapped inside this castle and there would be no turning back now, not until their job was done or they were dead.

_I still have the Digimite,_ Andrew remembered. He reached behind him towards the backpack and felt it's underside until his fingers came across its weight. He had moved the piece of rock from his pocket to back there the other day after the seven-billionth time it stabbed in the leg as he walked. _If worse comes to worst we can use this. Our very own 'Get out of jail free' card._ Though, if they were lucky, they wouldn't have to.

It took Andrew's eyes a minute to adjust to the low light given off by the candles that hung from the walls. When he could see again, he noted that they were in an entryway. Below them starched a red, moldy rug that ran forwards towards a wide set of stone stairs. At the top of these stairs was a suspended hallway that ran around the sides of the room above them and at the very top of the stairs was a set of double doors similar to the ones they had entered from, only much smaller and, as far as Andrew could see, they were the only doors that were open. There were four others on the lower level of the room that they were in, but each was shut and mostly likely locked tight. They were being lead into a trap, alright. The Dark Lord was herding them right where he wanted them to go. Honestly, that was fine with Andrew. He wanted to do as little exploring of this place as possible. Between the decaying furniture, the disturbing artwork, and the dust and cobwebs, Andrew knew that this was a castle that was haunted by all kinds of restless spirits. The less he saw of them (and they of him) the better.

The boy could see that Renamon was on full alert, each of her senses heightened to its utmost extreme as she tried to look in every direction at once.

"Something's here," She said, her voice so low now, that even Andrew who was less than two inches away could just barely hear her.

Andrew was going to ask what it was, or where, or how close, but was never given the chance to so much as open his mouth.

"Hi, Andrewmon!" A voice out to him from the darkness somewhere above them, it was female, and the friendliness of it clashed horribly with the surrounding environment. The boy knew he had heard that chipper voice once before, but couldn't remember where. Before he could really dive deep into the well of his memories, the owner of the voice made herself known.

First came the ruffle of feathers and then a small shape dive-bombed them from above. Renamon and Andrew just managed to duck as it flew over their heads. The boy turned his head the way the shape had gone and through the dim glow of the candle light saw a pink and purple bird; the same damn one that woke him up as he slept inside Renamon's home.

The boy watched as the oversized bird landed on the back of a rotting wooden bench that Andrew thought would have looked right at home inside of church, turned around and then took off at them again. This time as it neared it threw up its feet so its talons were aimed at them like knives flying through the air. Ignoring the boy completely, Biyomon began to scratch at Renamon's face.

The fox gave out a cry, not of pain but of frustration, and began to swat against the thing attacking her face with one hand while trying to shield her eyes with the other. Biyomon was out for blood, and seemed intent on attacking constant and close to Renamon's face, not giving her a second to retaliate. Every time Renamon swung, the bird dodged and then quickly swooped back in slashing with her talons, pecking with her beak, and smacking with her wings.

Andrew began to desperately look for something he could use to help, trying use his own bare hands would be the same as sticking them into a buzz saw. Across the way he spotted a black piece of metal on the ground. From the shape of it, it looked like a broken piece of one of the candelabras that hung all around them. It looked sturdy enough, and its heavy metal frame would make a perfect bat to smack away the bird.

The boy ran towards it, intent on reaching it as fast as he could before Biyomon could do any serious damage. In his rush the boy didn't notice how well placed the item was, how far it took him away from Renamon, and how all of the candelabras around it were perfectly intact. If he had only saw that this piece of metal had not actually fallen from any of the hanging lights around the hall, Andrew might have been spared what happened next.

He managed to sprint no further than halfway there when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Andrew had just enough time to turn towards what he had seen and simultaneously realize how easily they had been trapped when something slammed into him with the force of a linebacker.

An arm wrapped around his chest just across the ribs and clamped hold with a vice-like grip. In one fluid yank Andrew was pulled first backwards and then up. One second the floor was scraping against the backs of his shoes then it was gone and the boy was flying.

The arm that held him was wrapped in black leather. Torn, black wings flapped and glided on the air. Long white air flowed freely from behind a black cowl. Andrew craned his neck to look into the face of his capture, already knowing who he would see.

LadyDevimon's eyes met his own and a black smiled crossed the woman's lips. She didn't saw a word, but Andrew saw enough in those eyes to know that, if she just killed him, than he'd be getting off lucky.

Andrew managed to scream Renamon's name once as he was pulled through the double doors at the top of the stairs and into darkness. He heard Renamon cry out for him, but only for a second. Then the doors slammed shut sealing off Tamer from Partner.

**To be continued.**


	21. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty**

Renamon wasn't given a chance to retaliate. As soon as she evaded one attack Biyomon would come at her with another; scratching with her talons, pecking with her beak, swiping with her claws, and each time she was aiming directly for the fox's eyes, forcing Renamon to keep one arm up and across her face; an act that both protected and blinded her.

Several times she swiped randomly with her free hand trying to get a good grip on the bird, but the best she could come up with was a handful of feathers which only added to her annoyance. She wasn't intimidated by the little flying shit, but her patience was growing thin. Renamon knew that the bird couldn't keep up with this act forever, if she could just wait for Biyomon to grow tired and make one little mistake then she could step up and put an end to this nonsense.

Andrew cried out just then, his voice echoing and magnifying through the large stone room. Forgetting about her attacker, Renamon turned towards the sound. She saw the memorable female shape dressed in black holding onto the kid, pulling him through the air and up towards the top of the stairs where the only opened door waited. She cried out after him, realizing how easily she had fallen for another of the woman's tricks. She even knew that there was something waiting for them this time; staying perfectly quiet and out of sight, her smell being masked by the reek of mold and decay that engulfed this place, but Biyomon distracted her from every warning light her instincts had thrown up.

Before Renamon could so much as finish Andrew's name, he was violently yanked though the doors which slammed shut behind him.

Renamon saw a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye; an eye that she just barley managed to save from being sliced open by tilting her neck back. Biyomon's talon found her cheek instead, making a long cut. Renamon had enough of this game. To hell with her own safety, she had to go after Andrew before that pale-skinned bitch had a chance to do anything to him.

The fox swung out with her right paw and this time with her eyes pinned right on her target, her aim was true and just able to beat out Biyomon's slashing talon.

The blow caught Biyomon across the face with enough force to propel the bird across the room like a purple and pink dart. Her body struck a nearby pillar before landing on the floor. The little bird let out a soft groan of pain and tried to push herself back to her feet. Renamon steeled herself, ready to bring her foot down on top of the little shit's head if she had to, but Biyomon managed to lift herself no more than three inches off the ground before collapsing, unconscious but alive. As much as Renamon would have enjoyed putting an end to the bird anyway, but every second that passed took the boy a little further away from her. If she was lucky than she could take care of Biyomon on the way out, but until then the bird was on the bottom rung of her priorities.

Moving across the room with a near blinding speed, Renamon was up the stairs in two massive leaps and at the door. She wrapped her fingers around a large hoop handle that would have looked perfectly at home on the front door of Ebenezer Scrooge's house, and pulled. The heavy wood did little more than rattle in its frame. Renamon tried again, this time placing one foot as a brace against the wall and pulled with all of her strength, but received nothing in return.

_Fine,_ she thought. _I'll make my own way in._

Acting quickly, feeling each passing moment as if it were a barbell being pressed upon her stomach, Renamon balled her hands into fists and willed the fire to come; an act that came as naturally and easily and breathing. The blue flame burst around her paws and burned with an intensity that never caused her pain, maybe for her enemies, but never her.

Cocking her right arm back, Renamon swung forward and punched the center where the double doors met. The old wood shook, but did little else. As she pulled back her right hand, she punched with the left, receiving the same result, except this time she thought the give was just a little greater than before. Maybe.

Every time she pulled one arm back, she threw the other one; working the same spot over and over again like a boxer on a punching bag, feeling all the more aware of that time she was losing.

At first her actions were producing nothing and Renamon was growing scared that this might not work at all, and while there might have been another way around this door, she did not have the time to go wandering around to find it.

Renamon swung harder, ignoring the pain in her hands or the blood that trickled down her cheek the cut she had received. This time there was the sound of breaking wood. Pausing just long enough to look, Renamon saw that the door was at last getting ready to snap off its lock.

She backed up until her feet reached the stairs. She closed her eyes, took one deep breath, and then raced towards the door. At the last second she turned her body and threw he left shoulder into the center of the doors while punching with her right hand, essentially turning her body into one giant battering ram. There was a second of give followed by an almost deafening snap as the doors ripped open and Renamon was sprawling on the floor of a hallway so impossibly lengthy and dimly lit that she could not see the end.

As she took a moment to catch her breath and let her eyes adjust to a hall even darker than the entryway, she spotted something lying on the floor just ahead of her. Pushing herself to her feet, Renamon crossed over and picked up the small object in her hand. It was egg shaped, colored blue in the center with gray stripes going down the sides.

A feeling of dread eclipsed her heart and Renamon looked down at Andrew's Digivice. He would have never willingly let this go. If anything had happened to the boy, if the bitch did so much as a touch a single hair on his head-

Renamon forced herself to calm down. She would have to move fast, but to blindly go charging into the darkness would only get them both killed. Ignorance is what got them into this mess in the first place. LadyDevimon might have been smarter than she was, but Renamon would make her see that taking Andrew away would turn out to be a very stupid move, but first she needed to make up the distance between them.

**O O O**

The doors slammed shut and Andrew was dropped unceremoniously to the ground as LadyDevimon landed. The boy immediately scrambled to his feet, his first instinct was to run, but in the darkness he could see no where to go except for back the way they came (which he could not) or down the other end of the hall (where LadyDevimon probably wanted him to go) and to go blindly sprinting towards whatever it was that was waiting down there would only speed up whatever horrible thing it was this woman had in her mind. Andrew knew that Renamon would save him and it was up to him to give her as much time as he could. He had to hold out and stall her for as long as he was able.

The boy stood his ground, trying to make himself sound as though he wasn't nearly as afraid as he really was. "What do you want from me?" he has asked her, pleased at how strong he sounded, at least to himself. LadyDevimon, however, didn't seem too bothered by his façade; in fact she seemed to enjoy it. When she took a step forward, Andrew immediately found himself backing away. Smiling slightly as she circled around him she kept advancing until Andrew felt his back had bump against the wall. She closed the distance between them and dropped down to one knee so that they were at the same level.

"My, my," she said, holding her face just inches from his own, as close as old lovers. "Aren't we the eager one? Don't worry, my pet, we'll have time to play as soon as this is all over."

"I'm not anyone's pet," Andrew protested.

LadyDevimon chuckled at his; a beautiful yet soulless sound as she brought up her right hand, the normal one, and pressed her palm against his cheek in a gentle caress. "You keep telling yourself that for as long as you're able. We'll see how long it takes before you're calling me 'mistress'. But first…"

The woman trailed off as her hand began to move down from his face. She slowly trailed her fingers down his neck and then across his chest. What was happening was wrong, Andrew understood this, but what was really upsetting him was that it didn't _feel_ wrong. LadyDevimon was beautiful, her touch was gentle, and at this close proximity he could catch just the faintest whiff of her perfume; the only sweet smelling thing in this place of death and decay. Maybe it wouldn't really be so bad to just let her do what she wanted. It might even feel good. After everything that he had done and seen, would it really be so bad to let it all go? Why was he even fighting, anyway? He had nothing waiting for him in his world and no loyalty to this one, why even bother? She was stronger than he was anyway. He couldn't fight. It would be so much better to just submit, submit and give in to-

An image of Renamon suddenly cut through the fog encasing his mind, and Andrew grabbed hold of it like a drowning man would to a life preserver. He thought of her voice, her blue eyes, her strength and intelligence, the loyalty and patience she gave to him no matter how much of an annoyance he became. Andrew rememberd that _she_ was a part of this world, and _she_ was worth fighting for. After everything that Renamon had sacrificed for him, he could not just give up now. Could not, would not.

Andrew thought of these things and just barely managed to get control of himself again. "S-stop! Stop it!" he cried, shutting his eyes and turning away from the woman's gaze.

Chuckling again, LadyDevimon reached into the pocket of his jeans and plucked out his Digivice in one fluid motion. "Oh you _are_ going to be fun," she said as she dangled the device in front of him before tossing it over her shoulder like it was trash.

Thankfully, she stood back up and Andrew was allowed breathing room once again. His relief was very short lived, however, for no sooner did she get back to her feet did LadyDevimon shove him away from the wall and down towards the other end of the hall and whatever was waiting at the end.

"Get moving," She said, all of the flirtatiousness now gone from her voice. "Remember that every breath you take from this point on is a luxury. If you try and slow down or escape I promise that I will take that luxury away, understand?" Without waiting for an answer, she shoved him once more before herding him down the hallway like he was cattle. Maybe that wasn't too far from the truth. Andrew sure felt like he was headed for the slaughter.

It was some uncountable time later that Andrew first heard the sounds of Renamon pounding against the doors that had fallen behind them. The hall was ridiculously long, seeming to stretch on for miles and the noise seemed to be much fainter than it should have been. LadyDevimon gave him another push, maybe to speed him up or maybe simply because she felt like it.

"Don't get your hopes up," she said. "No one is going to save you. You've already lost; your friend back there is just too stupid to figure it out yet."

The boy said nothing, only kept his head down and his feet moving, yet he did allow a ghost of a smile to touch his lips. LadyDevimon didn't know Renamon as well as she thought. She would never stop fighting, never. And as long as she was willing to fight, than he would too, let LadyDevimon think she was winning, that would be proven false soon enough.

Before long the noise faded away. Andrew didn't know if Renamon had stopped, gotten through, or if they had moved too far ahead, but he didn't let his hope stop with the pounding. He knew that he couldn't really trust his ears and eyes in this place. The Digital World as a whole seemed to only loosely follow the rules of logic, but this castle was so warped and twisted that even the most basic of physical laws were thrown out; like a hall that seemed to span the length of several football fields, for example...

Andrew finally saw the end of the hall loom out of the darkness and the door that sat in the middle of it. At first it appeared to be a normal sized door; almost an exact replica of the first one they had gone through, but with each step it began grow: first six feet tall, then eight, then ten. By the time they actually reached it, the door had enlarged to such a degree that Andrew would have to get on the tips of his toes to reach the handle. LadyDevimon, however, had to do no such thing. In fact, she didn't even need to bother with the door handles at all. Instead she strolled up beside the boy, keeping one hand on his back incase he tried to bolt, and causally knocked with the other. There was a sound of a latch being turned, and then the doors swung open.

The boy found himself being pushed into a large room. Bookshelves lined the walls, each stuffed to the brim with decaying texts. Over to one side sat a fireplace that looked as though it had last seen use a hundred years ago standing next to what appeared to be a bird's perch. More disturbing artwork hung around the walls, but Andrew had long since stopped looking at them. He didn't know who he feared more; the person who commissioned such artwork or the person who actually painted them.

In the center of all of this stood a single throne; very large, very proud, and the only item within this entire castle that didn't look like it was ready to collapse. The throne sat empty, yet there was a dark power coming from it that awoke a deep, primal fear within the boy.

A small figure stepped out of the darkness from behind the throne. He was just a little shorter than Andrew was. His skin was a faint blue and he work a black hood that covered every part of his face except for his grinning mouth. Andrew wondered how this thing could see until he looked down at the creature's hands and noticed that each palm had and eyeball inside of it looking right back at him.

"So this is the brat?" The little creature asked. "Does he have it with him?"

"Of course," LadyDevimon said as she ushered the boy into the room. "Can't you feel it?"

Andrew looked from his first captor to the second, confused. If LadyDevimon was talking about his Digivice, then she was lying. After all, she was the one who took it away from him. He couldn't see this woman throwing away something he had if it was somehow useful to her, so what were they talking about? What else did he have that they-

Cold realization filled him as Andrew thought of the only other thing he was carrying that might be of any use to these people, and if he was right then that meant he and Renamon were being played by these monsters long before they entered this castle.

LadyDevimon ripped the backpack off of Andrew, using the nails of her deadly left hand like blades to cut through the straps.

"Who are you?" Andrew asked the hooded creature. "There's no way a little freak like you like the Dark Lord."

LadyDevimon threw her head back and laughed. "Oh he wishes," she taunted. The grin on the other's face, however, disappeared as if it had been smacked off.

The imp-like creature bared his teeth at him. "The name is Dracmon, and you'd better learn to keep your wagging tongue still before I rip it out."

The backpack was thrown across the room towards Dracmon who caught it in one hand.

_You'll put an eye out, _Andrew idly thought and suddenly had to hold back the urge to break out into half-hysterical laughter. Something told him the others in the room wouldn't appreciate the joke.

"Just find the stupid thing and remember; the Dark Lord promised that the boy would be mine." LadyDevimon had said. Andrew, however, wondered just down much a promise from this Dark Lord was really worth.

Dracmon grumbled something under his breath as he turned the backpack upside down and allowed the contents to spill on the ground. What little remained of their food fell onto the floor and with it an item the Dark Lord had been after: the digimite Andrew had just inadvertently hand-delivered to him.

"It's not much," Dracmon complained as he picked the stone up. "But it'll do." Moving towards the front of the throne, he placed the digimite upon the seat and then quickly backed away. A crackling sound filled the room, like someone wading up balls of paper. The digimite started to vibrate and then lifted itself up into the air where it stopped and hung above the throne. Tiny sparks of lightning began to shoot out from within the stone as a thin black line suddenly opened up before the digimite as if the very air had be cut. This line began to unfurl until it reached a rectangular shape nearly five feet tall and three feet across. The edges of this rectangle were jagged with cracks spreading outwards from them like a broken window pane. The inside was pure black with thousands of tiny zeros and ones of code running from bottom to top at breakneck speeds.

Andrew remembered the things the Professor had told him about the Digital World and wondered if what he was seeing was the very fabric that made up every single thing in this world; in essence, the Digital World's very DNA.

"What's going on here?" Andrew demanded. "What have you done?"

"Let me tell you a little story," LadyDevimon cooed as she rested her hands upon the boy's shoulders. "Once upon a time, a group of children not unlike yourself prevented our lord from claiming his rightful place as ruler of the world. Defeated but not destroyed, he returned once again and came within mere inches of success; however it took the combined efforts of many Tamers and Digimon to stop him. It was only by the thinnest of miracles that he was able to save a scrap of his energy before his death. He hid this energy in the emptiness between worlds where it was allowed to grow and thrive. When he became strong enough, he reached out and called his true believers back home so that we could ready the world for his revival, a revival that you helped bring about, I might add. Up until now he was only strong enough to appear as a spirit and could venture no further than these castle walls, but now he lives again and this world and all worlds will bow before their new master: Lord Myotismon."

Andrew watched in dismay as a pair of black gloved hands, each engraved with the outline of a bat, reached out from within the portal and took hold of the throne's arm rests. The man that pulled himself free from the blackness was as tall and pale as LadyDevimon dawned with a red mask across his eyes that rose up like bat wings. His suit was a regal blue and gold with a black cape with red lining fell around his form. The boy felt like he had stepped into the middle of a vampire movie, and here was Dracula standing right before him.

Now that its purpose had been served, the portal began to close until it vanished completely, not leaving so much as a scar behind in its wake.

Myotismon smiled as he plucked the stone of the air. "Greetings my children," he said, his voice regal but with an icy chill that made Andrew's blood freeze in his veins. "I have retuned."

"My love!" LadyDevimon exclaimed as she shoved Andrew to the ground and raced up to the throne. She threw her arms around her lover in a massive embrace before stepping back. "I've waited for you for so long."

"I know you have, my dear," Myotismon said as he held her chin between his thumb and finger.

"I've been waiting for this day," she beamed. "I'm ready, my love. I'm ready to destroy this horrible place and rebuilt it in any way you desire, where you may rule for all of time as its king and me as your queen."

"Queen?" The man asked, his voice absolutely dripping with false affection. "Now why would I ever want a miserable failure such as you as my queen?"

LadyDevimon's eyes went wide and her jaw dropped. "W-what?"

In one movement that Andrew's eyes could not even follow, Myotismon's hand went from gingerly supporting her chin, to wrapped tightly around her throat.

"I ordered you to do one simple task and you failed me, now you expect me to reward your failure?" he spat in her face, all traces of his pretend gentleness gone.

"B-but I still did as you asked," she croaked. "I brought you the child and-"

Myotismon gave the girl one violent shake to shut her up. "And you let the other one follow. They must _not_ be together and they must_ not_ be alive, you stupid little whore! The only two people in the entire world that could even possibly threaten my power and you _lead them directly to me_!"

Myotismon then tossed her away from him like she weighed nothing. Her body collided with one of the many bookcases that surrounded the room, the sudden and violent impact finally breaking the already crumbling piece of furniture and burying her under its debris. Seemingly satisfied with his actions, the man turned his attention onto Andrew for the first time, his gaze piercing into the boy's heart making it double its pace.

"And now there's the matter of taking care of you," he said as he balled his right hand into a loose fist. A red whip of energy grew from that hand, trailing behind him like a snake as he stepped away from the throne and started to make his way to the boy. "Your kind will never stand in my way again."

Myotismon raised his hand, ready to strike Andrew down where he stood and he could do nothing about it. The boy felt like his feet had been nailed to the floor. He was about to die and he couldn't even manage a scream.

Several beads of diamond shaped light streaked just over his head and sliced into Myotismon's hand, causing the whip to disincarnate into the air and the man to cry out in surprise. Both Andrew and Dracmon, who had closed in on Andrew's side near the door to make sure he wouldn't bolt, turned at the same time to see a streak of yellow fly out from the doorway.

Renamon threw her body directly into Dracmon's small frame with the force of a speeding bus, sending the small Digimon crashing into the throne, toppling it over.

Andrew looked up at the yellow fox that now stood beside him, unable to hold back the tears of relief that streamed down his cheeks any more than the smile that crossed his face.

"I knew you'd come," he breathed. "I knew it."

Renamon looked down at him and offered a faint smile. "Of course," she said. "I am your partner, right? I'll always protect you." She then reached out, took one of the boy's hands, and dropped his Digivice back into it. "Besides, you dropped this."

From ahead of them, Myotismon's soulless voice cut their reunion short. "Enough! I have not come this far to lose again. If you two wish to stand together, then you can die together."

Myotismon struck out at them with the whip of energy he had created. Renamon was just able to shove Andrew aside and dive out of the way herself before the attack landed, snapping the air with a deafening crack and leaving a smoking scorch mark on the floor where a second ago they had stood. No sooner had Renamon regained her footing did Myotismon attack again, forcing her to move. As she ran, Renamon sent another barrage of her Diamond Strom at her assailant, but with a wave of his hand a swarm of bats flew out from under the cape, each one colliding with a shard causing them both to explode in midair.

It was going to be the battle at Koemon Village all over again. Renamon would be forced to keep dodging until she tired unless Andrew did something. He raised his Digivice up into the air, ready to Digivovle Renamon into Kyubimon, but never got the chance. Seeing this motion from the child, and knowing from experience exactly what it meant, Myotismon struck out with his whip. Andrew was just able to dive out of the way before the whip struck, causing him to land gracelessly on the floor with a hard thud.

Seeing that her enemy was distracted, Renamon took this opportunity to pounce. She dove towards Myotismon, her claws outstretched ready to slice into his flesh, when he suddenly turned. He outstretched his hand. Something like a black light in the shape of a ghost, flew out from under his cape. It collided with Renamon, knocking her to the ground. She didn't seem to be hurt or unconscious, yet she didn't move. Andrew watched Renamon grunt and strain as if every bone in her body had gained hundreds of pounds, yet when Myotismon casually strolled over to her body and flipped her onto her back with one push with his boot, she rolled over easily enough. He then lifted his foot and pressed it down on the fox's throat.

"Don't you get it?" he ridiculed. "You never had a chance. I've stood up against those much stronger than the likes of you."

Renamon seemed to gasp for breath under the pressure being applied to her neck, but could find none, nor even lift a finger to stop him.

Andrew picked himself off of the floor and began to bolt towards Myotismon, not sure what he was going to do once he got there, and not caring. His only thought was to save Renamon. His heroic, yet ultimately foolish action with would have most likely ended in miserable failure, never came to be. The boy managed two clumsily steps towards Myotismon when a long, red spike suddenly and violently burst out of his shoulder splattering blood across the room. The spike was then yanked out with such force that Myotismon was pulled backwards and off of Renamon.

Andrew turned to see the last person he ever expected to save them: LadyDevimon. She stood in the mist of the rubble of the bookcase she had been thrown into. She was heavily favoring one leg and the breaths she was taking were haggard, yet that did not stop her from attacking once she had gotten to her feet.

"No one betrays me," she hissed at him as she readied to strike again with the spike her dangerous left hand had turned into.

"You _bitch_!" Myotismon cried as he struck at his former ally with his whip. LadyDevimon, already wounded, was unable to completely avoid the attack. She cried out in pain as she collapsed to her hands and knees as if bowing.

Myotismon stumbled, nearly feel, and then got his footing again. He raised his hand to cover his wounded shoulder, winching slightly at the pain it brought him while Andrew, who had been sidetracked by the quite literal backstabbing, raced over to Renamon's side. She was able to move again, but only a little, and Andrew had to help her to her feet.

"Now's our chance," she said.

"You're not in any condition," Andrew argued.

"Neither is he," Renamon replied as he stood under her own power again.

That sound like crackling paper cut through the air again as a portal opened up in the center of the room.

"Hurry, Lord Myotismon," Dracmon called he crawled over the downed throne, holding the chunk of Digimite in one hand. "You're not at full strength yet! Escape while you can!"

Myotismon looked from Andrew and Renamon to the portal and then back again.

"You may think this means you have won the battle," he said with a venomous hiss, "but I will not be denied again." Finally he looked over to where LadyDevimon was. "As for you, if you wish to fight along these whelps, then you can be buried with them."

As if working from a cue, a low rumbling began to emanate from within the castle causing the entire building to shake. Paintings fell down off the wall, furniture just barley holding together collapsed, dust and dirt showered down from above. The entire castle was going to be brought down on top of them and Andrew could only watch as Myotismon escaped through the portal created for him by Dracmon, who was now racing for the portal himself. In his hand he still held the piece of Digimite and if he were to escape with that, then there would be no way out.

"No you don't!" Andrew cried as he ran to intercept the creature. This time it was the boy's turn to play linebacker as he threw himself on top of Dracmon, using his larger size to hold down the smaller Digimon. Dracmon kicked and scratched at the boy, but wasn't able to do any real damage as Andrew pried the chunk of rock out of the Digimon's hand, before the imp booted his way out of the boy's grasp.

"Fine! Take it!" Dracmon barked as he scrambled to his feet and raced for the portal, managing to jump though seconds before it closed.

"We need to get out of here," Renamon said as she crossed over to him, trying to work out the stiffness in her body. "Use it to get us back outside."

"How?" Andrew asked.

"What the hell are you asking me for?"

"Well, how am I supposed to know? It's a rock! It's not like there are instructions!" Andrew replied as the shaking beneath their feet intensified.

"Think about where you want it to take you," a third voice cut in. Both Renamon and Andrew looked over at LadyDevimon, still on her hands and knees in the middle of the rubble. Her head was down and her voice sounded weak and, for the very first time, almost human. "Just picture where you want it to open up and step though."

Renamon look at Andrew, silently asking if he believed any of that, to which the boy could only shrug.

Holding out the stone, Andrew closed his eyes and pictured the jungle just outside of the clearing. He saw the trees and vines and weeds. He remembered the heat and the thick air, the way the ground felt under his shoes and the smell of vegetation. He saw this as clearly as he possibly could as the stone grew warm in his hand. When he opened his eyes the portal stood before them and while he could not see past it, he felt like he knew exactly what lay beyond just as easily as he knew what was on the other side of any closed door inside of his house.

"Come on," Renamon said as she pulled on his arm. "Let's go before we're crushed."

The shaking had reached its apex. The walls had begun to crack and bits of ceiling were raining down, flooding the room with stormy daylight. It wouldn't be long before the entire castle came tumbling down, and yet... they couldn't go. Not yet.

"Wait," Andrew said, pulling back.

"What? What is it?"

He nodded towards LadyDevimon. "We can't leave her."

Renamon gave him a look like the boy had lost his mind. That's probably exactly what she thought, too. "No," she said. "Hell no. Not after what she's done. She started this mess; she can go down with it."

"No one deserves to die like this."

"She tried to kill us! Andrew, she kidnapped you," Renamon responded, sounding like she could not believe a word coming out of his mouth.

"She also just saved our lives," Andrew pressed. "Doesn't that mean anything?"

"No!"

Andrew yanked out of her grasp and crossed his arms over his chest. "Renamon, I'm getting her out of her. What she does after that is her business, but I refuse to let her die like this, not after what she just did for us."

With that said, Andrew raced over to LadyDevimon's side before Renamon could think to just drag him out of the castle.

LadyDevimon looked up at him as he approached, her red eyes filled with confusion. "W-what are you doing?" she asked him as he bent down and slipped one of her arms around his shoulders.

"Come on," he said as he tried to pull her to her feet. "Help me out here."

"Trying..." she said.

A large chunk of roofing fell and landed on top of the overturned throne, smashing it to pieces. LadyDevimon who might have been quite thin, but she was still the size and weight of a fully grown adult and too heavy for Andrew to carry alone. At this rate either the portal would close or the place would finally collapse before he got them out. He was either going to have to leave her here to save his own life or die with her.

Andrew suddenly felt the weight he was carrying shift and then lessen. Looking over, the boy saw Renamon had taken LadyDevimon's other arm across her own shoulders, taking up the extra slack. She glanced over at the boy and then back towards the portal.

"I am so pissed off at you right now," Renamon grumbled as the three of them worked their way across the room and towards their salvation.

The jungle around the clearing had changed, and the reason why was very obvious: the black storm clouds had parted and with them the feeling of dread and heaviness. The clearing was now just that: an open area in the thickness of the jungle, and it was from outside of this ring that the three watched as the castle fell, the left side finally giving out and causing the rest to come toppling down like a house of cards until there was nothing left but a pile of dark, meaningless rocks.

"It's not over yet, it is?" Andrew asked after the dust had settled and calm had returned to the surrounded jungle.

LadyDevimon, who sat on the ground, propped up against a tree with an arm across her stomach where she had been struck by Myotismon's whip, shook her head. "No. He's still out there and now he's stronger than ever, but there's an upside. He's also very afraid of you both. I think I understand why he's so afraid, now."

Using the tree as a guide, LadyDevimon pulled herself back to her feet with Renamon readying herself to attack if needed. "I... um... I just wanted to say... thank you for saving me."

Renamon crossed her arms over chest, but didn't seem to relax any. "You can thank the kid," she grunted. "I still say we should have left you."

Ignoring the last part, the woman looked over at Andrew and asked him a question that actually made the boy feel a little pity for her. "Why did you help me? What is it that you want?"

"Nothing," Andrew said. "You saved Renamon's life, so we saved yours."

"I didn't do it for her, you know that right?"

The boy shook his head. "It doesn't matter. The fact is you did."

"You know that, if I were to have taken you out to try and re-earn Myotismon's trust that he wouldn't have shown me that kind of stupid kindness."

"I'm not like Myotismon," Andrew flatly stated.

LadyDevimon cocked her head to one side and scanned the boy over from head to toe, almost like she was really looking at him for he first time.

"No," she said finally, "You're not."

"Andrew," Renamon interjected by putting a hand on her shoulder, "if you're done with this crap, can we get moving? Somehow we need to go and track down that madman again and we don't get that done by standing around here."

"I think I can help," LadyDevimon said.

"Oh, hell no," Renamon responded, glaring at the woman with her piercing blue eyes. "I think we've had enough of your 'help', thank you."

To LadyDevimon's credit, she met that look head on and didn't give an inch of ground. "Without me you'll wander around for weeks and not find a single trace of him until it's too late. I know where he's gone. Face it, sweetie, without me you're screwed."

Andrew thought it over, and as much as he hated to admit it, the woman had a point. Myotismon could be anywhere in the entire Digital World right now and they didn't even know where to start looking. If LadyDevimon even had a faint idea of where to go, than what choice did they have? Besides, she had already proven to be a very capable fighter and Andrew defiantly would like to have that kind of power working with them rather than against.

"Okay," Andrew decided. "I'm going to trust you."

"Are you _insane?_!" Renamon cried. "She'll stab us in the back the first chance she gets!"

LadyDevimon looked down to Andrew, continuing to ignore the fox. "Thank you," she said, managing to actually sound a little grateful. "I'm going to repay my debt to you for saving me. And Myotismon is going to pay for what he's done to me. The best way I can think to do that is to watch him lose to you."

A little smile touched the woman's lips; mischievous, but not quite as sinister as it once was. "Now, I think you've earned a little bit of a reward, don't you?"

Before Andrew could so much as blink, LadyDevimon bent down and pressed her lips against his own. The kiss lasted only a second before Renamon pulled her off, but the feeling it spread through Andrew's body was consuming and completely incredible, making his face burn a bright red.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" She screamed at the woman in black.

"What do you care? What, is he your boyfriend or something?" LadyDevimon mocked, to which Renamon blushed like Andrew had never seen before.

"Oh! That's-that's none of your business, you tramp!"

"Tramp! Look who's talking you flat-chested, flea-bag!"

"You want a piece of me, you fat cow? We'll settle this right here!"

"How_ dare_ you! I've killed for less then that!"

"Um, ladies?" Andrew spoke up as he watched the two spit insults back and forth at one another, his voice getting drowned out in the noise. "L-ladies? Calm down it's- girls? I- can we- oh for the love of God."

Andrew brought his hands up to his temples and began to rub them. He thought he could feel a headache brewing.

It looked like things had just grown a lot more complicated.

**To be continued.**


	22. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-One**

LadyDevimon was the only one still awake that evening. They had traveled as far as they could during the day, and mostly in awkward silence; no one wanting to say a word incase it caused another argument to break out. Hell, she might have already come close to slicing open the fox-bitch's throat if Andrew had finally defused them. He then, very calmly, asked her exactly where she thought Myotismon had gone.

"I don't _think_, I _know_," she had said. "The castle you saw was nothing more than an illusion; a very real illusion that could have very easily crushed us under tons of very real rubble, but an illusion none the less. Just as Myotismon eventually gained the power to call out for his 'loyal followers' to return to him, he also used his power to create the castle; a safe place where his spirit could roam without fear of being attacked."

She felt a foul taste rise in her mouth as she thought of the endless months she had toiled under the rule of that man, believing his lies that she would be given a seat of power in his own order. Just how long had he really been planning on casting her aside? She didn't want to think that it had been a part of his plan since the very beginning, but was starting to look like the truth. Her failure to eliminate the boy and her Digimon might have only served as a convenient excuse for his betrayal. Even if she had killed them both it seemed very likely that he would have done away with her anyway just as he had been planning on getting rid of the others once their usefulness had ended.

For a woman who took just as much pride in her intelligence as she did her beauty, LadyDevimon was starting to really see how stupid she had allowed herself to become.

"Most of his plan should be obvious to you by now," she continued. "By using the power of both the Dark Rings and the Digimite Myotismon was planning on building an army. Anyone who would not willingly follow his commands would be enslaved. Hell, maybe even those who did follow would have found themselves wearing one of those collars anyway. Myotismon is not a very trusting man, after all."

"And with the Digimite," the boy realized, "he would be able to send his armies to any part of the Digital World no matter how secluded or protected."

LadyDevimon nodded. "Exactly. Distance and terrain would mean nothing. Think about it: thousands of Digimon slaves simultaneously attacking hundreds of locations within the Digital World all at once. No one would have a chance."

Then it was Renamon's turn to speak up. "But we put a stop to all of that," she said. "The factory producing the Dark Rings has been destroyed, and we retrieved the Digimite from Dracmon before he could escape with it, so what could he possibly do now?"

"You're underestimating him," LadyDevimon said. "He has another plan. One that's not quite as... elegant, but just as brutal."

"What is it?" The boy had asked while shifting uncomfortably on his feet.

"Do you remember where I told you he was hiding; in the emptiness between worlds? He still has access to that place and now that he's become fully formed, now that his powers are nearly full..."

"What are you saying?" Andrew pressed

"He's going to bring that emptiness out of the void and into this world. Everything and everyone in the Digital World will quite literally be crushed by the void. Think of it like a cinderblock being dropped on an egg. This land will quite literally be smothered out of existence and once nothing remains but the darkness, Myotismon will rebuild this universe as he sees fit. The experience will not be pleasant for anyone."

"That's insane," the boy cried, "How would he even survive something like that?"

She barked a bitter laugh "Oh, I'm sure he's planning on keeping himself safely tucked away in the void as it crashed over this world like a wave. Then he'll just keep opening doors between worlds, one after another, and allow the emptiness to crush the life out of each until nothing remains except for what he wills."

"He's planning on creating the end of the world," Renamon said, looking pale underneath her fur.

"The end of _all_ worlds," the boy corrected.

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust" LadyDevimon agreed in a sing-song voice, almost as if she found the idea amusing. Perhaps in a way, she did. She always did have a bit of a soft spot for power, and for one creature to be able to bring forth the end of the universe? Why, that was the work of a god. That was one of the reasons why LadyDevimon had followed Myotismon in the first place; she wanted to taste that kind of power, to envelope herself in it like a blanket. But now her loyalties had changed, as surprising as that sounded even to her. Never in her life would she have believed that she would turn her back on such raw strength, yet she had, and not for the reasons she had told the boy and the fox. Not all of them, anyway.

"So where is he now?" Andrew asked after letting the gravity of Myotismon's plan sink in.

"There is a place," LadyDevimon said, "a cemetery that was built to honor the memories of the fallen Digimon. Those who will not be coming back."

The boy looked up at Renamon with a puzzled look, not seeming to understand exactly what was being said. Renamon took in a small breath and appeared to be trying to put the right words together. LadyDevimon, who already has little patience for the subtle nuance of 'carefully choosing your words', told the fox to hurry it up already, it wasn't like she was explaining the birds and the bees. Renamon shot her a murderous look, but at least she started talking.

"You see," Renamon stated, "when a Digimon reaches the end of their life for whatever reason they're able to... I guess the right word would be 'reincarnate' themselves by becoming something called a Digi-Egg where they can be born again, but this requires there to be something left of their data after they pass on, if something happens to that core data, though..."

"Then it's officially game over," LadyDevimon added bluntly. "The cemetery was built as a way to honor the poor suckers who couldn't keep hold of their own data. Well, those who deserved to be honored, anyway."

"Do you have to be so damn callous about it?" the mutt growled.

"Hey, better them than me, sweetie."

"So this cemetery," the boy interrupted before the girls could start arguing again. "This is where we'll find Myotismon?"

"Of course," LadyDevimon shrugged. "What better place for someone who plans on brining on the end of the world? Even if we throw the dramatics aside it's the perfect place for someone like him. The location is obscure, rarely visited, and supposedly haunted. Myotismon will have all the time and privacy he needs to regain his strength and get about with his deeds. If there's only one bit of good news than it's this: we have time. I don't know how much; maybe days or maybe weeks, but we do have time. I don't claim to have any idea how one goes about expanding one universe to crush another, but I have to imagine it will take an incredible amount of energy, every bit he has, and Myotismon is going to need to recover from his wounds first."

"So we need to get to him fast before he has a chance to recover," Andrew said.

"Not necessarily," she cut in. "Even if we were to step right into his livingroom this very second, it wouldn't do any good. You have to remember; Myotismon is a very ancient evil. He's been defeated before but each time its taken more and more force to do so. And even then he's been able to salvage some small scrap of data which would then grow stronger than ever before as the years passed. If you were to face him now, even in his weakened state, you'd be killed. I don't even think I could stop him."

"Then what do we do; just let him go along with his plans?" the fox said, rolling her eyes

"Exactly," she answered.

Renamon blinked; an almost comical look of confusion coming over her face. "I'm sorry," she said. "I know I must have heard that wrong, because it sounded like you said we should-"

"Let him call forth the void, yes," LadyDevimon finished.

"Okay, I don't think you understand exactly what it is we want to do here."

"You'd think with those huge ears you'd be able to listen better," LadyDevimon snapped back. "Let me dumb this down for you, then. Myotismon is going to crush this universe under the weight of another one which he can control. That is going to take a lot of his energy, hence why he sulked off to someplace very remote. Do you see where I'm going with this, now?"

"You're saying we let Myotismon drain most of his energy on his own and then we swoop in and finish him off ourselves," Andrew answered.

"Ohh, looks _and_ brains. What more could a girl want?" LadyDevimon cooed, enjoying the redness that crawled onto the boy's face.

"I don't like this," Renamon said. "It's too risky."

"Well unless you want to get the three of us killed, then it's the only way. That is, of course, you have a better plan?" There was a long paused where no one spoke. Finally Renamon dropped her head in defeat. "That's what I thought."

"It's up to you, Andrew," the fox said. "I still don't like the idea, but I'll go along with whatever you want."

"I'm telling you, it's the only way," LadyDevimon pressed. "No one knows that man better than I do."

There was another long silence as the boy stood there weighing his options with his head turned slightly downwards and his eyes closed. She didn't really blame the child for thinking things over like this. As far as she was concerned, her way was the only way, but this was still their lives he now had to juggle. Well, their lives and the lives of everything living thing that ever was, is, or will be. So, there was probably a little pressure on the boy.

After a full two minutes went by, the boy finally raised his head and looked back and forth between the two Digimon before him.

"I agree with Renamon; I really don't like this, but... I really don't see any other choice." The little fox's face had lit up right up to the word 'but', and then that smugness was slapped right away; much to LadyDevimon's pleasure. "We'll wait for him to start his plans and when he has allowed himself to become weak enough, we'll strike. Our timing will have to be perfect, but... it's the only chance we'll have."

The boy looked up at the woman as asked her how long she thought they'd have to wait.

"I couldn't say," she told him, 'but as long as we head in the right direction I think the signs will become obvious enough."

Andrew gritted his teeth in resolve. "Alright. We head towards the cemetery and until then we keep a low profile. If we're lucky, Myotismon might think we died in the collapse. If not, well, the best we can hope for is that he'll think we're too lost to find him in time. So, where is this place exactly?"

"To the north," LadyDevimon said.

"Of course," groaned Renamon as she rolled her eyes, "where else?"

All of that happened several hours ago back when they still had light to see by. Now the night had fallen upon them once again. Even in the darkness the trio tried to keep moving a little further through the jungle, but after the third or fourth time someone tripped over a fallen log or a tangled mess of weeds left invisible by the night, they decided to bunk down.

The boy had drifted off to sleep easily enough, which wasn't surprising after the stressful day he must have had. Renamon, who had situated herself very close to the boy and never let her eyes stray too far away from LadyDevimon was the next to go. It had taken her a good long time, but finally she too had given in to the needs of rest. Now only she was left awake. She was tired, yes, but her own thoughts refused to let her rest.

She looked into the fire, watching the flames dance and shimmer as she occasionally feed in another piece of wood to keep it going. She had told them that she had joined with them in make Myotismon, her once so-called 'Dark Lord' and lover, pay for his betrayal. This was the truth, she had every intention of making the man suffer for his actions against her, but this was not the full truth.

It wasn't for the good of the world that she was doing this. The idea that she had even a shred of decency inside of her was ridiculous. She cared nothing about this world or any of the beasts that dwelled within it; in fact, if she had the power to enslaved it herself, than she would. So, she wasn't doing this for out of some misplaced sense of justice, nor was she here because she felt she actually owed anything to the two who had saved her. Had it of been anyone else who had pulled her from the wreckage than she would have been on her separate way without so much as a look back. So what exactly was it that was making her do these things which were almost noble?

The answer was as obvious as it was unsettling; it was the boy.

LadyDevimon had found herself infatuated with the child. He seemed too weak and helpless, even clueless at times. Yet Myotismon, a creature who could bring about the end of the world by his own hands, feared him. Myotismon was a god, so what was it that gods feared? Did the boy really have something more to him that she could not see? She didn't just want to know, she _had_ to know.

She still had every intention in the world of making the child her personal play-thing once all of this was over, that part of her plans hadn't changed; except now she wouldn't kill him after. She was going to let the boy have a long, blissful life under her dominance. Perhaps she would even let the fox-bitch live as well. Renamon didn't fit anywhere into her own plans, but for whatever reason the boy seemed to have some sort of feelings for her; and while it would be easier to just kill her now and take the boy as her own, doing so might disrupt all of the groundwork she had already laid. It might even go so far as to close him off from her clutches forever. She couldn't have that, so for the time being she would spare the fox's life. Hell, she would even go so far as to protect it if that's what made Andrew happy, not that it really mattered. By the time she was done the boy wouldn't even remember there had even been a Renamon. All he would remember is her and whatever he was told to.

Men, LadyDevimon had found, were all so easy to control that it almost wasn't fair. The species didn't matter, all it took was a little bat of the eyelashes, a few sweet words, a caress in the right place, and maybe just a peek at something they really wanted to see, and suddenly they were like putty waiting to be molded in whatever shape she choose. Surely the boy would end up being no different. After all, she had nearly snagged him once as is, though the fact that he had managed to pull himself out of her own unique little spell was quite impressive, almost unheard of.

But, like she said to him before, let him enjoy his freedom while he could. Soon enough he would be hers.

Looking up from the fire, LadyDevimon allowed her eyes to rest at the spot where the boy now slept, curled up in a semi-ball shape with one arm tucked under his head. His face was perfectly serene and his breathing was slow and steady. It was easy to see the man he would grow up to be; someone handsome and strong. The kind of man who could become very popular if he played his cards right.

None of this really mattered to her. The boy would have the future that she told him to have. Besides, it wasn't as if she had any _real_ feelings for him. She would flirt with him and whisper all the sweet things men liked to hear, but in the end Andrew was nothing more than another challenge for her to meet just like all of the others that came before him and all of the others that would come after. Of course he was nothing more. LadyDevimon looked out for herself. She took what she wanted, when she wanted, from who she wanted to take it from. This had served her quite well for many years and there was absolutely no reason for that to change now.

The way he had saved her life was kind of heroic, though. Very stupid, but heroic. She didn't attack Myotismon in order to help the boy or his Digimon. Hell, she couldn't even see what it was he was doing from where she stood. In that moment all she knew that that she was still alive, but injured and very pissed off. If Myotismon was really as smart as he thought he was, then he should have finished her off right then and there, but the man had slipped up and LadyDevimon believed in taking any chances that came her way.

In reality she had been aiming for Myotismon's heart; mostly interested in seeing if he even had one there, but the spike was heavy and hard to control even in the best of conditions. As it was, she overcompensated for the weight and struck higher then she intended. Still, she enjoyed the pain that it caused the bastard and was getting ready to strike again when he attacked her.

The ache she felt when the whip struck her was like nothing she had known. It seemed to travel through her body igniting every nerve as it went. Just one hit had been enough to bring her down to her knees. She spent the next few minutes simply struggling to keep consciousness. Several times she felt herself swaying off and had to force herself back, but each time it required more effort.

Everything that was happening around her was like a dream. She was aware of most of it, but couldn't do anything about it. She was mostly too afraid to even raise her head, not knowing if slight movement would be all that it took to send her toppling over the edge of consciousness and if she blacked out, well, that would be it for her. It would be a damn long time before she woke up from that one, and who's to say she'd even be herself when she did.

That was when he felt something shifting on her right side. She dared to look in that direction, getting massive vertigo as she did, and spotted the boy throwing her arm over his shoulders to get her to her feet.

She asked him what he was doing; her own voice sounding fainter than she thought was healthy. She didn't seem to be able to understand exactly what was going on. It looked like the boy was trying to help her, but that couldn't be right. After everything she had done to him there was no way he would do a thing like that. That's not how people worked, she knew this and yet...

Then the other one, Renamon, was at her other side. Together they were getting her onto her feet. Renamon said something, but she could no longer make out the words. Being lifted up made her head spin and her stomach restless. Now she was not only struggling to stay awake, but to also keep her last meal down. The sensation only lasted for a second, though. Soon she was starting to feel better, each step becoming a little easier than the one before until she was able to carry some of her own weight. She looked up just in time to see them walk through the portal and out the other side.

She rested while the others watched the castle give its final few shakes before tumbling to the ground. While her body felt better, her mind was still confused. The boy had just saved her life, but why? He could have easily left her there to die. That would have been the smart thing to do. Certainly she would have never done anything even close to such an act for him, as he must have well known, so why then? He said that he wanted nothing from her, but that couldn't have been right. Everybody wanted something, _especially_ from her. Everyone had their own agendas and angle, so what was his? She couldn't understand why he was playing her like his. By this point she had made it painfully clear that if it was something physical he wanted from her, than he could just take it, so why... why any of this? Why the kindness? Why the trust?

It didn't make sense!

Maybe it was better not to think about such things. His motives would become clear enough in time. Andrew would turn out to be just like every other man she had ever met in her life if given the chance, but LadyDevimon had learned long ago not to give them the time to. Better to take what she wanted and then leave. Things like emotions were kept on the back burner. She would never be hurt and never be let down that way. Soon the boy would be nothing more than just a notch in her belt; a larger notch then usual, sure, but nothing more. After all, she was LadyDevimon: a heartless, soulless, selfish bitch. This was just who she was and who she would always be and no force in the world would ever change that.

Still, as she sat there and watched the boy sleep, a strange feeling poked at her insides; something mildly painful and very unpleasant that refused to go away. The funny thing was, if she didn't know better, she would have almost thought it was guilt.

**To be continued.**


	23. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

Andrew had found sleep easily enough. Everyday seemed to be a battle of endurance on his body and mind, so by the time the sun had set and they would bunk down for the night, the boy had little problem falling asleep even if his once soft bed had been subsisted for whatever bit of grass, dirt, or weeds might lay underfoot. Funny enough, Andrew was actually falling asleep faster and deeper now than he ever had at home. Back then the boy had to put up with a good hour or so of tossing and turning before he could even start to get comfortable, let alone drift off. Out here, however, there had been nights when the boy could barely lay down before zonking out.

What he was doing during the day; the constant traveling mixed with more emotional highs and lows than he would care to admit, did a number on his young body, but there was more to it all as well. A good portion of it was this Digital World itself, Andrew found. It had a way of getting into a person; changing him. Making him feel and think things that he or she might have never even considered before.

On the outside this sounded unpleasant; sinister even, and perhaps the process could become something like that if the person in question had a black enough heart and allowed such changes to occur, but for Andrew Roth the experience had been rather positive.

For this entire life (which might have been on the short side in years, but not experience) all the boy had known was his city and, for all he cared, that city could have been the entire universe. He had grown used to the smog and noise, the crowds and gridlock that came with living in the same spot as a couple hundred-thousand others. As far as he knew, this was really the only way to live.

Out here, though, everything was so different, so incredible. The only smell to the air was in the rain and greenery, all of the smoke and smog he had grown so used to was gone, like someone had taken a giant vacuum and sucked all the grime away. And then there was nothing compared to the water; the first time he stood before the ocean and looked out at water such a deep and vibrant blue that it almost hurt his eyes to look at. Yet however beautiful this all was, it paled in comparison to the night sky with a thousand stars shown down with their perfect, never-ending glow.

Back at home Andrew had never gotten the chance to see stars like these. Even in his more suburban style neighborhood there had simply been too many lights down there on Earth that blacked out those from the heavens. It was no wonder so many city-folk saw themselves as tough shit when they never had to look above and see just how tiny and insignificant they all really were compared to an entire galaxy.

But for its entire splendor, this was also the soil from which Andrew current fears grew. For the first time the boy was neither tiny nor insignificant: a role in life he had grown just as used to as he had the pollution and the noise. He had been forcibly taken from his home and thrust into an alien world then instructed, almost offhanded, that he needed to save it from certain destruction. _Oh, and here's the kicker,_ he had bitterly thought to himself, _if I were to fuck up here, than I would have basically caused the death of every world that ever is, was, or will be, but no pressure, kid! You're not even old enough to drink, smoke, or vote, but if you could go ahead and stop the apocalypse, then that would be just great. _

There were probably thousands of other people in his world that would have given anything to become as important as Andrew was in that moment; people who were older than he was, probably stronger and smarter as well. People who probably _wouldn't_ have caused the resurrection of the Digital World's ultimate evil, let alone allowed him to escape. Now that he had freed a force much stronger than himself, the only conceivable way to save this world was to allow the very thing he was supposed to prevent to start, just goes to show had qualified he was for this job.

He had been content being an unimportant face in the crowd, maybe not happy with it, but at least content. He never asked for any of this to be thrown on top his shoulders and, frankly, he didn't want it. Why couldn't he just to back to being his old, stupid self? Why him of all people?

These thoughts of hopelessness and cowardly self-pity weren't anything new to the boy. In fact, they had become very familiar traveling companions along his journey, but until recently he had at least managed to keep them in check and, at times, forgot about them all together. Renamon had been a major anchor for his mental state. She made him feel safe and secure in these wilds; almost like a giant teddy bear with claws and a mean right hook, but she was more to him than just a glorified security blanket. Renamon embodied all of the strength and will that Andrew wished he could have. She had been calm and patient with him even when the boy was at his worst and became the only real friend he had ever known. Andrew trusted her completely and without question. It was a scary thing, to put so much of yourself out in the open for someone else, yet Renamon had been worth the risk, he felt. She was the reason that he still fought despite how bad things became. Never before did he care so deeply about anything or anyone then he did for her. He simply could not allow her world to descend into madness.

But now even the glimmer of hope that he took from her was starting to fade. They were so close to the end now that the boy thought he could almost reach out and touch it. Andrew had known that things would come to a head eventually, but knowing something and actually seeing it were always too different things.

Andrew was frightened; more so than he had ever been before in his life here or the one he lived before. He felt like Casey at the Bat; a story he had been told as a little kid. The game was reaching its final inning and he was called in as the hero to clinch the victory. The first two balls went flying by and now he was down to his final out. Pretty soon he would have to face Myotismon and there would be no room for failure. The boy would be allowed one more swing and his timing would have to be perfect or else... well: strike three. You're out.

Despite his interior bouts with his own worries, Andrew fell asleep quickly that night and for the next several nights that followed as the trio worked their way through the jungle, but while his sleep was deep, that was not the same as 'restful'. He was plagued with nightmares since leaving the castle; each one fading into the next or repeating over and over again like a broken movie projector. Most of them he couldn't remember, and this he was thankful for, but there was one that haunted him almost non-stop both while he slept and now even in his walking hours. If Jijimon had been able to see it, he might turn pale at how similar it was to his own.

The sky ripped open. This was how the dream always started. Sometimes he was alone and sometimes he wasn't. Sometimes he was in the jungle, or on a hilltop, or in a desert, but no matter what the location or cast the dream always started the same way: the sky ripped open. There would then come a sound like thunder so loud that it made the very earth tremble beneath its might as a long red scar appeared above like an invisible hand had sliced the very air with a knife. The mark soon opened like wound, and then it would bleed its own unique blood: something thick and black and foul smelling making Andrew think of gangrene or bad eggs.

The blackness would pour out of the wound, rolling and bubbling across the sky like the stuff inside a lavalamp. The way the blackness moved was so lazy and slow that it almost appeared to be going about its work with only half-interest, yet its sheer size meant that miles could be covered in less then a second. There was panic and chaos as the blackness seemed to overfill the sky and crashed down to the earth, destroying everything it touched.

Suddenly everything would go dark. The sun was gone; not blotted out, but actually _gone_, snuffed out like a candle between two massive fingers, but even in the pitch black, he could still see the force which came towards him, glowing with a dark color beyond possibility. This blackness was its own creature; stupid and destructive, yet very aware. Whatever it was, it was alive.

The boy would open his mouth, maybe to scream or maybe to cry out in defiance of what he witnessed, but whatever the case it didn't matter. The blackness would come upon him and crash over him. Its thick, tar-like substance would force its way down his throat, into his stomach, into his lungs; filling every empty bit of the boy as it squeezed the life out of him. Andrew could feel his body being crushed; his bones snapping, organs being turned to pulp, his eyes popping like balloons. In no time he would be squeezed so thin that he would simply cease to exist, but then...

The dream would either fade away to another or he would awaken. It didn't matter which, just as long as it ended, and Andrew would have given anything to make the dreams stop. They were doing more than keeping him from getting any restful sleep; Andrew thought they might be a sign telling him that he was already far too late to save anything.

There was no joy in Mudville. The mighty Casey had struck out.

**O O O**

Renamon didn't know if she was the first to really notice the change in Andrew, but she was the first to say something about it. Ever since their conversation with their newest headache, LadyDevimon, about how to deal with Myotismon; the unmasked 'Dark Lord', Andrew had started acting differently. It was very subtle at first, so much so that Renamon might have missed it if she hadn't grown so in tune with the boy during their time together. Andrew's voice had started to grow quiet and shy, and his body language was almost like he was trying to pull up into himself; to be become as tiny as possible. The bad jokes and sarcastic comments she had grown to enjoy had also dried up. Half of the time, Andrew didn't speak at all unless directly asked a question and even then either she or LadyDevimon sometimes would have to repeat it before he would respond, and it wasn't that he didn't hear them; there was this new vacancy in his eyes that seemed to suggest that he just couldn't understand what was being asked of him, no matter how simple the question. Renamon was seriously growing worried about the kid and while she was almost positive she knew what was eating away at time, she had no idea how to help.

She didn't like the way that made her feel; that knowledge that the only person in her life she really cared about needed help and there wasn't a single thing she could really do. She wanted to protect the boy; keep him safe from anything and everything that tried to hurt him, but how did you protect someone from their own demons? She simply didn't know, and with each passing day that he grew worse instead of better, her own fears and pain grew.

It was several days later that Renamon finally had to confront Andrew; something that she knew she needed to do, but was so unsure of how to proceed with, making her drag her feet on a problem she knew needed tending to. Her uncertainty might have caused her to wait even longer but as it was, it became an issue that sparked its own intervention.

The worst part of the jungle was behind them and once again they were able to see the sky above the treetops as well as loosened up the underbrush enough for them to have a half-decent path to walk along without having to worry about tripping over something every other step. Of course, the concentration both Renamon and LadyDevimon had to make sure they didn't snap an ankle was now free to be redirected and each other again.

'The Bitch', as Renamon thought of the woman (much like how the woman thought of her) had made a crack about her fur looking worse than ever. Renamon, who wasn't able to take criticism even from people she liked, shot right back about how ugly LadyDevimon must have been if she needed to hide behind that mask. This, of course, started the hundredth or so fight between the two, and while they never came to blows yet, words were thrown around that would have made a sailor blush.

It was usually around this time that Andrew would get between the two of them and force them to calm down, telling them that they were all on the same team and had better things to do than be at each other's throats. After scolding them like children and making them apologize to one another, they would then continue walking on in tentative peace. Well, until one of them made another cheap joke at the other's expense and started the whole process right over.

This time, however, no intervention came. Even in the worst depths of Andrew's newfound introversion, he still gave some token effort in calming the girls down, but now there was nothing. It was this glaring break from what had become routine that caught the fox's attention.

Renamon turned around to make sure the boy was still okay, and LadyDevimon must have seen the look on her face, because she shut her mouth right in the middle of reminding the fox about her lack of a bust.

"He's gone," LadyDevimon said, looking around. "Oh shit, he's gone."

Andrew had been dragging his heels more then ever that day, and both girls had really worked at slowing their pace to match his, but when the fighting began again, the two of them lost all sense of everything else around them. As horrible as it sounded to Renamon, they had actually forgotten about Andrew as they each verbally clawed at the other.

Renamon strained her ears, trying to listen for the sounds of his footsteps, hoping that made the boy had just fallen a little bit behind and would catch up soon, but there was nothing but the wind.

"Come on," she called as she darted back the way they had come. "He can't have gone far!"

About that, Renamon was right. As a matter of fact, the boy didn't really move at all. They found him standing on the make-shift path not to far from where their latest war of words had started from. The boy's hands hung at his sides as his head looked upwards at the sky, his eyes distant and a slightly troubled look hung upon his face. Renamon followed the boy's line of sight upwards, but saw nothing that could possibly held his attention, not even so much as an interesting looking cloud. She dropped to one knee and said his name, but the boy only continued to stare up at nothing.

_He looks like he hypnotized,_ Renamon absently thought.

Placing a hand on either one of his shoulders, Renamon favored the boy one hard shake as she called to him again, this time putting more authority into her voice. She didn't know which of the two things did it, but the boy blinked and his eyes cleared up.

"Huh?" he asked, even sounding like he was coming out of a trance. "Yeah, what's up?"

"Andrew, what is it? What's wrong?" she worryingly said to him.

"Nothing. I'm fine. Really." Even_ if _Renamon had somehow been completely oblivious to his change in behavior over the past few days, the way Andrew either wouldn't or couldn't meet her eyes when he spoke told her everything she needed to know.

"No offence, cutie," LadyDevimon said as she caught up to the two of them and crossed her arms just under her chest, "but you look terrible."

Renamon had to agree with that. Despite the fact that Andrew had drifted to sleep almost immediately every night, there was still no denying the dark circles that were gathering under his eyes, giving the boy an almost 'raccoon' look.

"No, really. I'm okay," he pressed without much added authenticity.

Renamon shook her head. "You're not okay. You must think I'm really stupid if I can't tell when something's wrong." She shot a look back at 'The Bitch', waiting for whatever smart-ass comment she would make, but the woman said nothing. Renamon was more worried about this than relieved at her tact. "So talk to us."

"You're the one who keeps saying were all on the same side," LadyDevimon added. "Spill it."

Andrew looked from one woman to the next and then dropped his eyes down to his worn tennis shoes. Renamon could see a hint of shame fill his eyes.

"It's... stupid," the boy said, "not even worth talking about."

"Tell us anyway," Renamon insisted, trying to sound as kind as she could.

"I... it's just that there have been... nightmares."

"Is that all?" LadyDevimon asked. "Hell, we all have a bad dream every now and then-"

"It's more than that!" Andrew shouted back with so much sudden anger that LadyDevimon actually flinched, but just as quickly as it came, the viciousness left again. "It's... it's... I don't know what it is; a warning maybe. All I know is that they won't stop. I can't stop thinking about it. Every time I close my eyes I can see that blackness raining down from the sky and... and... I don't think I can do this. I-I can't anymore. I just... can't. You'd be better off without me," he finished in a whisper.

Renamon felt her heart break at his words. Seeing him like this, so helpless and afraid. For the first time Andrew really did look like the child he tried so hard to not be. Renamon wanted to sweep the boy into her arms and hold him as tightly as she could manage. She would tell him that everything was alright, that she was here and everything was going to be fine. She would protect him, take care of him; do all of the things she promised herself she would do. She wanted to do these things, but never got the chance.

"What crap," LadyDevimon huffed, surprising both Renamon and Andrew with her bluntness. Renamon let her hands slip from the boy's shoulders and they both turned towards the woman. She turned her gaze up to her face, and was surprised by what she saw there. The look of almost greedy lust her expression held whenever she spoke to the boy (a look Renamon despised) was gone completely. Replacing it was a stone-cold stare mixed with annoyance, but while both her voice and face where hard, they weren't without some passion. "Kid, if that's true than I'm a fucking angel."

Andrew opened his mouth to say something, but LadyDevimon didn't let him. "Shut it," she said, holding up her deadlier hand and pointing one elongated claw in his direction; perhaps to really drive the point home. "I'm talking; you're listening, got it?"

Andrew just gave one mousy nod.

Satisfied she had his attention, he continued to speak. "I'm very powerful, even if I don't look it. I've killed opponents several times my height and weight without so much as getting a hair out of place, and whether you believe it or not is none of my concern."

Neither Andrew or Renamon doubted her on that.

"Do you want to know why I didn't just barge into that horrible little mountain village myself and attack you? It's because I was afraid of you, Andrew. _Me_, afraid. I saw the things that you and your partner could do together and I knew that if I just went after you blindly, then I didn't stand a chance. That was why I let the idiot charge in first to wear you down, because that was the only way I knew I could win. Hell, that's why I had to distract the flea-bag back at the castle before dragging you away, a good Tamer and their Digimon can become a vastly more devastating than any lone one. Together you and Renamon are a force greater than anything I've ever seen, and that includes Myotismon."

She crossed over to Andrew, reached down, and ran her good hand through the boy's hair; a very intimate gesture that Renamon strongly wanted to protest, but knew that now wasn't the time. Besides, Renamon thought she saw something in that act that was more of a comforting touch than a flirtatious one.

"I already told you once," LadyDevimon said in a softer tone, "but maybe you need a little refresher: I'm not the only one that fears you, Myotismon does, too."

Andrew shook his head. Until now he had been listening very carefully to every word LadyDevimon said, trying as hard as she could to really take in every last bit she had to say, but now it seemed like he just couldn't grasp what she was telling him.

"N-no," he tried to protest. "That can't be right. Myotismon, he... he-"

"He ran," LadyDevimon said, "as soon as the portal was open, he ran. From _you_. I want you to remember that when things get bad; when you came face to face for the first time, _he_ was the one who blinked."

"But... my dreams..."

"Nothing more than a cheap parlor trick. Having Myotismon think we were dead was too much to hope for. He doesn't know exactly where we are, but he knows we're coming. He's too stubborn to change his plans this late, and that's making him desperate. He's trying to scare you away with false visions of doom and gloom. He's going to do everything he can to stop you before we reach him, but you can't let him, you hear me? You. Can't. Let him," she told him, drilling the words home with a gentle poke in the chest.

For a moment the boy said nothing. His eyes once more cast down to the ground as if he found his shoes to suddenly be very interesting, only this time there wasn't that 'lights-on-but-no-one-is-home' look about him, and that alone was something to be hopeful for.

"Are you sure?" Andrew asked as he looked up. "Absolutely _sure_. Don't lie."

LadyDevimon once again crossed her arms. "Sweetie, I don't align myself with the losing team."

A smile crossed the boys face and he actually gave a quick bark of laughter at a joke that Renamon didn't get and LadyDevimon didn't seem to know she had told, but that wasn't what mattered. What was important was the worst of the storm inside the kid's head seemed to have passed. Andrew still looked very tired and a little out of it, but not nearly as bad as before. For the first time in days, Andrew looked like Andrew.

As much as Renamon hated to admit it, maybe 'The Bitch' did have a shred of humanity inside of her after all, even if it was a small one.

"Now," LadyDevimon exclaimed as she looked about them. "If we are where I think we are, than I have a bit of a surprise you show you two."

"What kind of 'surprise'?" Renamon asked, reverting to her old distrust of the woman.

"It's not a surprise if I say what it is, mutt," the woman rebutted, reverting to _her_ old attitude, too. "If you think you can carry the kid's weight along with your own fat ass fast enough, then I suggest you follow me. I'm about to show you two the greatest day of your lives."

Not waiting for any questions, of which Renamon had at least a dozen and by the look of Andrew's face, he had a dozen more, LadyDevimon unfurled her charred black wings and lifted herself into the air with a kind of grace one wouldn't expect from something so badly shredded. She rose to the tops of the trees where she paused long enough to favor the two of them with an inpatient 'come on' gesture with her arm before disappearing from view.

Renamon looked over at the boy and asked with her eyes what they should do, to which Andrew could only shrug. He lifted his hands up in the air and then dropped them again as if to say 'why not?'

Honestly curious herself despite her distrust of 'The Bitch', Renamon turned around and allowed the boy to comfortably situate on her back before using her powerful legs to sent them flying upwards from one tree branch to the next until they too had broken the canopy and began to follow the fallen angel that was leading them towards 'the greatest day of their lives'.

Renamon wasn't too sure about that, but she had learned to trust her instincts and so far no warning bells were going off. It was possible, just _possible_ that it might for once be something good waiting around the corner, but she felt that as true as that might prove to be, there was still so many corners left to turn.

**To be continued.**


	24. Chapter 23

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

"Is that a hotel?" Andrew asked, astonished, as the two closed in on the building that rose out of the distance.

They had been following LadyDevimon for several hours as she glided above the jungle's canopy. Andrew would have thought that the torn and ragged condition of the woman's wings would have left them practically useless, yet she moved with an almost beautiful grace though the air, not so much flying as catching the breeze and gliding along with it. Her speed and polish were so good in fact, that several times the woman had to land and wait for Renamon to catch up, sometimes looking at an imaginary watch on her wrist while she did so as if in silent mockery.

The tactic, while a little mean, did speed Renamon up. Every time LadyDevimon would have to stop to wait, Renamon would let out a soft grunt or growl before pushing herself harder then before in effort to keep pace.

Andrew knew that it was his added weight that was slowing the fox down, he had seen the way she could move on her own. If this had been some kind of race between just the two ladies without him involved, then LadyDevimon would not be acting so cocky, Andrew was sure of that.

As the trees began to thin and the jungle started to space out, Andrew noticed an impossible to miss hint of red poking up from somewhere among all of the brown and green off in the distance, and the closer they came, the more this splotch of color started to take shape. Andrew was the first to realize that they were looking at the red painted roof of some building tall enough to be seen among the surrounding woodland, but he wasn't able to really understand what it was there were looking at until they reached the clearing where the building was settled.

With one last look over her shoulder to make sure she was still being followed, LadyDevimon bent in her wings and allowed herself to drop into the clearing that surrounded the structure, several seconds later Renamon and Andrew were following her down.

The three stood at the front of a five-story tall rectangular building made of white stone. A fountain stood out front in the shape of a gigantic rose from which clean, blue water flowed from its top petals down to the base. A path of bricks, almost the same red color as the roof, abruptly began from no point in particular behind them, ran down towards the fountain, wrapped around both sides in a large 'O', and took whatever visitor might be standing on its path right to the front double doors which were made of clear glass with two golden door handles. In the space between the lobby door and the windows on the second floor hung a sign that read: _**Rosemon Resorts**_ in elegant cursive lettering. Underneath the lettering someone had painted a pair of intertwining vines that along the title and up both sides that ended in a par of red roses almost like quotation marks.

Andrew was completely taken back. Here was a building sitting on the outskirts of a jungle that looked like it would be better situated downtown in some posh city strip. Someone had built a fancy hotel quite literally in the middle of nowhere.

LadyDevimon, who had stayed silent long enough for the other two to really drink in the surroundings, was the one who broke the awe-inspired silence.

"This is the Rosemon Resorts hotel and spa," she said with a touch of satisfied pride in her voice. "Anyone who's anyone makes the time to stop here. It's like heaven wrapped up in a gift box and handed down to earth."

That was when Renamon surprised them both by laughing. It wasn't the same beautiful chuckle that Andrew had heard before-ironically enough-at LadyDevimon's expense, but rather the cold and almost sarcastic kind of sound a person made when they couldn't quite believe what they were hearing.

"Are you serious about this?" she asked. "Absolutely serious? After everything that we just went through, and everything we still have to do, you want to make a pit-stop for beauty supplies? I mean, I knew you were vein, but _this_! This is just..." she laughed again. "I can't even think of a word for how ridiculous this is!"

LadyDevimon huffed and planted her hands on her hips. "I wouldn't expect someone like _you_ to understand, but the truly beautiful people such as Andrew and myself know the importance and value of much-needed pampering. Isn't that right?" she asked, looking at Andrew.

"Actually, I've never been to a place like this before," the boy said, almost apologetically. "I always thought they were kind of, you know, girly."

Renamon snorted approval at his words wile LadyDevimon let out a deep sigh. "Oh, you poor thing," she said. "I can't even imagine what kind of wretched life you must have led before I found you."

"Now wait just one damn minute," Renamon scorned, jabbing a finger in her direction. "You didn't 'find him'."

Strolling past the fox, LadyDevimon placed her right arm around Andrew's back and began to usher the boy towards the doors to the building, seeming to ignore Renamon's cries of protest all together. "Now you just come along with me, cutie. I promised you the best day of your life, and I'm going to give it to you," she cooed while leading the boy towards the front doors.

The inside of the building was more elegant than Andrew would have guessed. He had stayed at a hotel only once in his life. Several years ago, it had been, when someone from his father's side of the family was getting married. They drove for nearly an entire day to reach the wedding and stopped at a hotel for the night after before driving back. While he could no longer recall the name of that place, though he did remember was that it had been very nice, but this 'Rosemon Resort' blew it away.

The floors were made of dark stone tiles with a massive floral rug sitting in the middle of the room; the floral print on that rug being, of course, roses. Armchairs and couches were situated around several coffee tables in various spots in the lobby. Fine paintings, mostly of flowers or landscapes, hung from the walls and soft music drifted from overhead, and as LadyDevimon headed towards the front desk, Andrew saw that the flower motif didn't just encompass the décor, but to the employees as well.

The Digimon behind the counter looked very much like a living plant; a small green body with purple flowers for hands and a mane of pink pedals around her neck as well as a large one that came down over her face. Andrew watched as LadyDevimon went over to this girl and said something, to which she nodded eagerly before running though a door behind the desk labeled: **Employees Only**.

As far as Andrew could tell there were only a handful of guests staying at the resort. He expected a place that looked as nice as this to be crowded all hours of the day, but other then the three of them the lobby was mostly empty. A few small groups sat in some of the lounge chairs talking among themselves and every now and then another employee of the same species as the one behind the desk would come in from the back door with an armful of towels or step out of the elevator with empty food trays, but other then that they seemed to have the place mostly to themselves. Andrew began to wonder of this hotel was situated in the middle of nowhere for a reason, like a kind of; 'if-you-don't-know-where-it-is-than-you're-not-invited-in-the-first-place' thing.

Renamon joined Andrew in the middle of the lobby, having a look around at the décor herself just as LadyDevimon glanced back at the them and raised one finger, telling them to be patient for just a little longer.

While Renamon took her first look around, Andrew was having his second; this time really paying attention to the paintings on the wall. None of them were signed from what he could tell, but each was done with amazing detail and where much more pleasant to the senses than the pictures he had tried so hard not to look at inside of Myotismon's castle.

It was while he was lazily scanning the artwork that his eyes happened upon something that fit in so perfectly with any building's lobby that it was no wonder that he had missed it; against the wall opposite of the desk, situated between two potted plants was a series of payphones.

Moving on legs that he could hardly feel towards the proverbial sight, Andrew had to force himself not to sprint. His own phone, when he still had it, was nothing more then a useless piece of plastic here. There had been no absolutely signal and since he kept forgetting to charge the battery back home, it had gone dead after a few days anyway, turning the device into nothing more than weight in his jean pocket. He didn't have any money, but if he could get an operator on the line maybe he could call home, call his mother. He couldn't exactly tell her where he was, but if he could let her know that he was alright, that he was still alive…

It had been weeks now since he left. She had to be worried sick. She might even have half the city looking for him. His mother might have looked quiet and unassuming, Andrew mused as he closed in on the phones, but she had a force about her that got things done when they needed to be.

With pictures of milk-cartons with his face on them and flyers reading; 'Have you seen this boy' in his head Andrew picked up the first receiver…

...and was greeted by dead silence. He put the phone back down on the cradle and lifted it again, but was given the same result.

_Okay, so the first phone is out,_ he told himself._ No big deal. These things break all the time, right? The second one will work._ Except it didn't work. Nor did the third. Or fourth. Or fifth. Each phone in the row gave him nothing but dead air. Andrew slowly placed the last receiver back in its slot, suddenly feeling very tired again. He didn't know what he was expecting. If he really thought he was going to send some kind of cross-dimensional phone call, than he was more out of it than he thought. But still... hearing his mother's voice again, even if only for a few minutes, would have been nice.

_What was the point of even having these phones if they didn't work?_ Andrew's brain angrily spat. _Are they some kind of decoration? Whose stupid idea was this?_ Andrew felt like he had just run towards an oasis in the middle of a scorching desert only to find out upon arrival that was a mirage.

Feeling a warm hand gently touch his shoulder, Andrew looked up to see Renamon had come over to join him.

"You okay?" she asked.

The boy nodded and forced himself to smile a little. "Been better, but I'm fine."

With her own soft smile resting on her face, Renamon silently tilted her head towards the front desk. Andrew nodded again and the two made their way over to where LadyDevimon waited.

Less then a few seconds later the door behind the desk, the one that was only for employees of the hotel, opened again. The Digimon that stepped out this time was most certainly a woman. She wore a tight-fitting red bodysuit with long black boots that went up past her knees and nearly touched her waist with equally long red gloves covering her hands and arms. A long white cape made to look like pedals flowed out from behind her and the collar around her neck resembled crisp green leaves. Sitting on top of her head, covering her eyes, nose, and all of her hair except for the long blonde pony-tail that flowed from behind her, was a large rose. Andrew had no idea how this woman could see from behind such a thing, but the way she easily moved around to the front of the desk and towards LadyDevimon with her arms out stretched suggested that somehow she could.

"LadyDevimon," the woman cried in delight. "It's so nice to have you again, my dear!"

"Rosemon," she replied as she embraced her friend. "It's been far too long. You look wonderful, as always."

"Well of course. Beauty is what I do best," Rosemon said without even a touch of modesty.

From beside him, Andrew heard Renamon groan under her breath; "Oh no, now there's_ two_ of them."

Leading the new woman over, LadyDevimon introduced everyone. Rosemon bowed slightly before shaking both of their hands.

"Welcome to Rosemon Resorts, and I am your hostess, Rosemon. I hope that you will both enjoy your stay with us. Feel free to wander the building and try any number of our services. Because this is your first visit, all your charges have been waived."

"First time visitors get to stay for free?" Renamon asked. "That doesn't sound like a good business plan."

"Oh, I think you agree that once you've tried Rosemon Resorts, you'll want to come back," the digimon responded with a tone that said this practice had suited her just fine thus far.

It made sense to Andrew. It was the same reason ice cream shops let you have little taste samples; once you've tried just a little bit and found you liked it, then you had to keep coming back for more. It was easy to pass on something you knew nothing about, but hard to ignore once your brain kept telling you how amazing it was that first time. Andrew guessed the same thing worked here, too.

"So I'm guessing that you're the one who opened this place," Andrew asked Rosemon.

"Correct," she beamed.

"So when not build someplace with a little more… foot traffic?" he said, glancing over at the mostly-empty lobby

"You see, I've always wanted to share my secrets of beauty and perfection with the world," the woman began, "but not with the _entire _world. There are only so many who really deserve the perfection that I and my highly trained staff can provide. Why, if I were to let every last bit of digital riff-raff into my resort, then where would we be? By building out here and inviting only the most deserving of Digimon, I ensure that only the cream of the crop receive the pampering that we provide."

"Oh brother. You sound almost as bad as she does," Renamon said, jerking her thumb towards LadyDevimon.

"Make jokes if you must," Rosemon scolded, "but do not make light of my services until you've tried them yourself. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have very important matters to attend to. You may pick up your room keys at the front desk. Your meals may be provided to your rooms if you wish, but I highly suggest using our dining hall. It closes at eleven, but the bar will be open all night. Thank you again, and have a wonderful stay." With that, Rosemon turned, favored her friend with one more hug, and then left.

"Well then," LadyDevimon said. "Shall we begin? There's so much to do and only so much time to do it in. Who knows, if we're lucky we might even be able to find a flea-bath for the mutt."

"Funny," Renamon sneered. "Very funny."

At first both Andrew and Renamon were very uneasy. Neither one had ever really been 'pampered' before and having someone else do nearly everything for them was very alien. For the first few hours they both followed along with LadyDevimon, who seemed to be known and actually liked (as strange as that sounded to Andrew) among the employees. Since she seemed familiar every inch of the hotel, both Tamer and Partner silently decided to go along with whatever was suggested, but as the day wore on and they were able to actually relax and grow familiar with the grounds, their own personal interests began to draw them in three separate directions.

Andrew was surprised and perhaps even a little overwhelmed by the number of services provided. It didn't matter whether you had skin or fur, feathers or scales, claws or talons; there was some kind of treatment waiting to be provided by one of the Floramon, Lillymon, or Lilamon on staff and, while he still believed a lot of this stuff was girly, he thought he would at least give it a shot. After all, when would he ever get a chance like this again? Besides, it wasn't like anyone would _know_…

After splitting off with the others and going on his own, the first thing the boy did was get a massage. He had always heard that these things were supposed to be very relaxing and good for stress, but he just found it painful, and thought he was sorer coming out then he was going in.

A few times Andrew headed out to the back of the resort to soak in one of the 'natural hot springs' that had been suggested to him, but he always saw the number of others already in the springs, giving the boy second thoughts. He was not really in the mood for the company of strangers, especially when half-naked.

After checking out his room and having a quick look around the pool to kill time, Andrew made his way to the dining hall. To the joy of his stomach, he found an impressive spread of food and after several very large helpings of various fish, meats, fruits, and not to mention desserts, the boy had managed to stuff himself to the limit.

It was on the way back to his room to lie down that Andrew noticed second hallway that jointed off from the one he was in. Next to it was a small desk being manned by a Lillymon who sat idly filing her nails. To her left was a rolling tray with dozens of folded towels, to her right were several wicker baskets stacked within one another.

"So, what's down here?" Andrew asked as he approached the girl.

"The steam rooms," the Lillymon answered as she put down her file and sat up straight and professional in her chair now that she had a customer. "All guests are welcome to take part in the natural benefits of steam; healthy for both body and spirit. At least… that's what I'm told to say. Would you be interested?"

Andrew thought about it, had heard about steam rooms before and saw a few on TV. They were those small rooms where you sat on wooden benches and poured water onto hot coals. The steam from them was supposed to be relaxing or good for the skin or something like that.

"Sure, why not?" he answered with a shrug, feeling adventurous.

"Wonderful," the Lillymon said as she handed him one of the clean towels. "Would you like to take advantage of our laundry services? While you relax we clean and press your clothing until they look like new. Um, no offence, but I think you might want to."

The boy didn't need to look down at himself to know that she was right. It had been several days since he last soaked his clothes to clean them and since then he had been either walking for hours or sleeping on the ground. Andrew said that he would like that too, and in response was given one of the wicker baskets. He was told to place his clothing in the basket and leave it outside the sauna door.

Taking his basket and towel, Andrew thanked the woman-who went back to her nails now that her work was done-and he walked down the short hall which ended in a square room. Before him were two wood doors, one laded 'men' and the other 'women'. To either side of him were three closet sized rooms with curtains that could be pulled across which Andrew took to be changing rooms. None of them were being used, not that this surprised Andrew. As far as he could tell there weren't a lot of Digimon who had 'clothing' to speak of. Many seemed to be like Renamon; perfectly happy to walk around with whatever they had.

Stepping into the first of the changing rooms, Andrew closed the curtain and began to strip tossing first his shoes and socks, then pants and shirt into the basket. He battled with the underwear for a bit and then decided that if he was going to go this far, he might as well go all out. After throwing his briefs into the container (but first making sure to hide them under his shirt so they weren't right there on top for the world to see) Andrew wrapped the towel around his waist and stepped out. He placed the basket outside of the men's door, but before going in he took a second to listen. From behind the other door he could hear the faint sound of woman's voices and laughter, but no one he recognized. His own door, however, was silent and after opening it just a crack to verify that he was going to be alone inside there, Andrew stepped in.

The room was smaller then he would have thought, but nearly exactly as he pictured. It was warm, but the lack of steam suggested that no one had used this room in the last few hours a least. Again, thanks to TV, the boy knew how to remedy that. Taking one of the two ladles that hung on the walls opposite from each other, the boy dipped it into the bucket of water that sat just next to the coal pit and poured it in. He was immediately greeted with a loud hiss and a soft wave of warm air. After a few more pours, the boy was satisfied and made himself comfortable on one of the benches.

Leaning against the wall with his hands behind his head, Andrew closed his eyes and tried to relax. He knew he should feel bad about sitting here in a resort hotel while in one world an ultimate evil was readying Armageddon and in another his mother was probably grieving over a surely dead son, and he did feel guilt for these things, but what he kept reminding himself was that these were problems that he could fix with the help of Renamon and now with LadyDevimon.

Besides, they still needed to kill time so Myotismon could weaken himself. Was it really so bad that this was the place they chose to spend _one_ day? He needed to relax a little. They all did. After some of the things they had each been through over the past few weeks: Andrew's dreams, Renamon's destroyed childhood home, LadyDevimon's fall from grace, could it really be such a bad thing to take one day to just try and calm down? Hell, they were already at each other's throats half the time, anyway. He wanted to think this would ease out some of tension.

As for his mother, well… that was something that he would have to wait and see about. If he could get home, then everything would be okay, even if he'd never be able to tell her where he was without being committed to a white, padded room. But, should this turn out to be a one way trip, if he was unable to get back, then he would find a way to send her a message. He didn't know how, but… he would.

Not too long ago, the thought of never being able to go home again would have terrified him, but now it didn't really seem as bad as it did then. The more he saw of the Digital World, the more he was entranced with it. It was an impossible place filled with impossible creatures, but he had never felt so comfortable before. In a way he felt like he fit here. And if nothing else he had managed to make more friends here than he ever did back in his world. Maybe it really wouldn't be so bad if he did have stay. Maybe there was even a life he could build here for himself. Clayton Creedance sure had made it work for himself okay.

As Andrew sat with his head back and eyes closed, losing himself to memories and meanderings in the warm fog as he began to drift and then doze. He didn't even notice that the door to the room had been opened or that someone was now closing in on him. If fact, Andrew didn't know anyone was there at all until a hand began to caress the side of his face.

**O O O**

LadyDevimon had her time schedule at Rosemon Resorts down to a science. The very first thing on the list was a deep-tissue massage, she even had a favorite girl who worked very well, finished in a reasonable amount of time, and didn't try to engage LadyDevimon in any type of small talk. After this came the mud bath, then seaweed wraps followed by a mineral bath, then topped off with a manicure and pedicure.

The way she would end her day would be in the steam rooms. After a good hour or so of sweating her cares away, she would then head up to her room for a shower and then a well deserved night's sleep. Imagine her surprise when she turned down the hallway in time to see Andrew walking towards the saunas with a towel in one hand and a basket in the other.

_Oh, this is just too perfect,_ she thought as a small smile touched the corner of her lips. She had been coming to this spa long enough to know that Andrew was one of only a handful of males in the building at any given time and the men's sauna was almost always empty. In fact, she often used that room herself just so she could avoid the never ending gossip of the other guests. They were going to have the room all to themselves. The possibilities made her shiver with delight.

She waited where she was, first to make sure that the boy would actually stay inside the room, and if he did; that he was nice and comfy cozy when she walked in.

After what she felt was a reasonable amount of time had passed, LadyDevimon made her way down the hall and towards the small desk. The Lillymon sitting behind it looked up and opened her mouth to start whatever ridiculous speech she had been told to sell. Without even looking at the girl, LadyDevimon raised up one had, palm out, to tell her to keep it to herself, while scooping up a towel with the other and all without slowing her stride as she walked down the second hall and into a changing room.

She striped and wrapped the towel around herself. Outside of the men's door she waited just long enough to listen for any voices coming from within, but all was silent. Or it was from behind that door, anyway. From the woman's door came the normal call of the endless, empty chatter she so heavily despised.

She opened the door and slipped in. Even through the steam she could see the shadow of his youthful frame leaning back against the far way, arms tucked behind his head. Slowly, she crossed the room waiting for him to move or speak. He did neither. It wasn't until she was standing right next to him that LadyDevimon could see that the boy had slipped into a light doze. She sat down next to him, taking a moment drink in his body; allowing her eyes to slowly make their way up his frame and then back down again, thinking once again that Andrew would grow into a very handsome young man if allowed.

From within her came a deep yearning, almost like an ache. The feeling was both wonderful and upsetting. She was used to men falling at her feet, swearing their lives and loyalty to her, but she personally never felt a single thing for any of them outside of mild amusement that would always fade.

She, more than anyone, knew the feelings of lust and what came with it, but it wasn't lust she felt this time. She couldn't tell what this was, exactly. 'Want', possibly? For the first time in her life did she feel like she wanted someone other than herself? Maybe, and if so there were much worse people to fall for than Andrew.

Hardly aware that she was going to do it until the act was already done, she reached up and stroked the side of his cheek with her hand, loving the feeling of his bare skin against her own. The sensation brought the boy out of his light doze. He blinked a few times and made a soft groan from somewhere within his throat before turning his head to see what had touched him. At first when his eyes met hers there was nothing but sleepy stupor in then, but he quickly recognized her, and right on the heels of that came the realization of where they were and (probably more importantly) what they were wearing.

Moving with the speed of a startled rabbit, Andrew jerked away from her covering himself with his hands despite the oversized towel that already hung from his waist.

"LadyDevimon," he cried in surprise. "W-what are you- you can't be in here! This- this is-"

Smiling to herself and thinking about how cute Andrew was when he became frightened and flustered, LadyDevimon slid along the wooden bench, closing up the distance that Andrew tried to put between them. And every time the boy would scramble back, she would close it right up again. The entire time he talked and stumbled over his words. LadyDevimon watched with pleasure as the boy's eyes would start to drift downward to look at the rest of her body, before he forced them back up to her face. She liked it when he looked at her; she even encouraged it by leaning forward ever so slightly to give the boy a better view.

Finally, just like she had planned, Andrew had backed himself into the corner of the room and before the boy had a chance to make a break for it, she swung herself around so she stood directly in front of him, forcing him into the corner. Andrew tried to press himself as close to the wall as he could while LadyDevimon leaned in towards him, not stopping until their bodies were less than in inch apart and all that was separating their skin was two layers of cotton.

Gently, she the finger up her right hand against the boy's lips to silence him, which he did, before sliding that hand around to his cheek.

"It's okay," she told Andrew. "You don't need to be afraid of me. I'm not going to hurt you, love. All I want is to make you happy, and I can make you happy. You know that, don't you? Just say you want me, all I'll be yours. Forever."

Her heart was pounding and her mind racing as she spoke, thinking of the wonderful things they could do together, how powerful they could become. Maybe there was even a chance that she could still rule this world with Andrew by her side. Sure that might involve corrupting him, but only a little. Once he saw how fun it as to be a little evil, he would want more. They always did.

The boy's mouth quivered, his eyes locked onto hers. She could sense that he was ready to snap, ready to tell her all the things she wanted to hear him say. She had a certain power over men. Her looks, her voice, her body; they spoke to that gender, promised to give all the things they wanted but would not ask for. They spoke of romance and excitement and pleasure. She thought to herself that it would only be a few moments until he was throwing his arms around her and falling into her embrace, but then-

Andrew closes his eyes and turns his head away, a look of sorrow and guilt washing over his face. "I... I don't," he said, his words stabbing through her like a cold, steel blade. "I'm sorry, but I don't."

Fury overtook her in that instant, beating at her temples like a drum and coloring the world around her a deep crimson red. She grab the boy's wrists and slammed him against the wall with absolutely no concern for being gentle. She pressed her body directly against the boys, forcing him to feel her. No one rejects her. No one said no to her. Everyone wants her or wants something from her. The boy was playing some type of sick game and she had enough of it. It ended right here, right now. She was done with these feelings, done with the hurt, done with looking out upon something so pure and beautiful that it hurt her heart knowing she could never have unless she forced herself upon it.

"Then I'll make you," she hissed. "My will is stronger than yours. I'll make you want me. I'll make you_ love_ me!"

The boy turns his head to face her, looked directly into her eyes, and then said something that immediately quenches her burning rage: "Is that what you really want?"

It wasn't the words that he said, exactly, as it was the way he said them. The tone of his voice was close to pity. He looked upon LadyDevimon in her most basic, angry, hate-filled form and rather than fearing it, he sounded like he felt sorry for her. This close she could see her reflection in his eyes, and the woman that looked back at her was an ugly, ugly thing.

Moving slowly, like the bones in her body were instead rusty hinges, LadyDevimon allowed her hands to release their grasp from the boy's wrists. She pulled herself away several steps and dropped down onto the bench.

"No," she said, her voice unnaturally small and meek. "No I... I don't know what I want."

That was a lie. She knew perfectly well what she wanted. She wanted Andrew to look at her the same way he looked at Renamon. She wanted to hear that soft tone in his voice that he saved only for that woman. Most of all, she wanted to know what it felt like to be wanted by someone of their won free will; not lust after like an empty object, but actually _wanted_, maybe... even needed.

"I'm sorry," the boy repeated. "I do like you, LadyDevimon, just-"

"Just not in the way I like you," she finished.

Andrew dropped his head. "No."

A long silence passed between them and in the next room they could just make out the sounds of muffled laughter.

"I'm sorry," LadyDevimon finally said; words that sounded strange to her own ears and foreign to her own tongue. "I'm sorry for a lot of things. I never meant to hurt you. Not after I got to know you, anyway. I just... I don't know. This was all so much easier in my head."

As she spoke, she couldn't quite raise the courage to look directly at him. Still, she heard the boy slide over on the bench closer to her. It was only a small movement, but she still appreciated the effort. She pulled up on her towel in an attempt to cover herself up. She was suddenly feeling very exposed.

"Can I tell you something?" Andrew said to her. "I really don't think you're this terrible person that you want everyone to think you are. There's a lot of good buried down deep inside of you. Very. Very deep." LadyDevimon chuckled at his attempt to make light, in spite of herself. "And whatever happened to you before, whatever you've done, you can put that all behind you. It's never too late to start over."

LadyDevimon shook her head. "I don't know. I've done a lot of horrible things. How could someone like you possibly understand what its like to live with something like that?"

There came another moment of silence between them as they both sat with their heads down and their hands together, almost looking like worshipers inside of some strange church.

The boy finally spoke up, sounding very solemn. "I wasn't a very good son. My dad had an accident and was killed and I… I was so angry at him for it. He was my dad. He was supposed to be invincible. Bad things might happen to other people, but they weren't supposed to happen to us. I was angry, but he wasn't around anymore, so I took it out on mom, instead. I wanted to make her feel bad, I wanted to punish her and I don't know why."

LadyDevimon looked over at the boy, seeing him in this light that she never had before. She had never bothered to think about what his life must have been before all of this. She had just always assumed that Andrew had been some perfect little kid living a perfect little life, but right now… she saw a lot of herself inside of the boy; anger at the things that could not be controlled and the feeling of weakness and uselessness that quickly followed behind.

"Do you want to know what the worst part is?" the boy asked without _really _asking. "Before I came here the very last thing I did was tell my mom that I hated her. By now she probably thinks I'm dead and what's worse, she thinks I died feeling that way. I want to take it all back, but I can't. I just can't," he sighed, his shoulders sinking down.

She felt sorry for the boy. She wanted to do something, anything, to help him, but didn't know what that would be. She wanted to hug him, but after everything that she had just done, she didn't even trust herself to touch his shoulder. The sad truth was; she had no idea how to act normal around others. She had been trained to kill, and manipulate, and control, but no one had ever showed her how to help. Right now, she really was useless. LadyDevimon felt so bad for the kid, but had no way to show it.

"It's late," she finally settled on saying. "And we've both been in here too long. We'll go to our rooms, get some sleep, and feel better in the morning, okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, sounds good," Andrew said as they both stood of from the bench.

"Andrew?" she spoke up, clutching her towel tightly around herself so it would not fall.

"Hmm?"

"Thank you for... giving me a chance. I promise I'm not going to waste this," she said.

Andrew nodded and even managed a small smile. "Good. Everyone should be allowed a second chance, right?"

"Right," LadyDevimon agreed. "I guess so."

**O O O**

Andrew's clothes had been waiting for him, all cleaned and neatly piled in the basket outside of his door. On the very top sat a single rose.

Andrew took his newly clean garments into the changing room and dressed while LadyDevimon went into another to do the same. It was as they were both exiting the hallway that they found Renamon.

"There you are. I've been looking all over for you." 'You' meaning Andrew. The only acknowledgment she gave to LadyDevimon was a single look of distrust. "Is everything okay?"

Both LadyDevimon and Andrew looked at one another; silent conversation passing between the two in an instant. LadyDevimon wanted to know if the boy wanted to talk about what had happened and seemed to even understand why he would. Andrew, however, decided there was nothing to really talk about at all.

"Everything's fine," he said, and this was the truth.

**O O O**

To Renamon this whole place was one huge joke. She didn't need or even want anyone to take care of her or, as 'The Bitch' put it, to 'pamper' her. Maybe some Digimon need to have every last damn thing done of them, but Renamon was perfectly happy taking care of her own needs. She had spent some time wandering the halls of this place (and being given a few looks as she did so), as she looked at one 'treatment' after another, each one more ridicules then the last.

The only thing she even attempted to try was the hot spring behind the building and only because it was close to the lakes and ponds she would bathe in. She discovered, however, they the 'hot' part of hot spring was not a joke. After only a few minutes she couldn't take the searing heat and pulled herself out of the pool. She would take an ice cold dip in the lake any day over being cooked alive in some massive underground stu pot.

It had taken several hours for her fur to dry off and by that time she had started her hunt for Andrew. She hadn't seen him for awhile now, and while that alone would not have really bothered her, she hadn't seen 'The Bitch' either, so she was not happy when she finally spotted the two of them walking together down one of the halls. Andrew might have said that nothing had gone on, but there was that second that they looked at one another and something passed between them. Renamon didn't know what it was, but she was sure of one thing; she didn't like it. She was going to have to trust the kid, though. If there was something that she needed to know, then he would tell her, but still... she was going to keep a close eye on things from here on out. For Andrew's benefit only, of course.

And that was what she told herself that night when she stood up out of her hotel bed, stepped into the hall, and crossed to door next to hers; Andrew's. As she raised her fist and gently rapped on the wood, saying silently that she was just checking in on things; making double sure that everything was still on the up-and-up and he wasn't having any more bad dreams. Of course that was it. Sure, she had had some trouble sleeping that night and every now and then she kept turning over, expecting to see Andrew lying somewhere close to her like he had for so many nights now, but that was only a force of habit, nothing more then that. All she needed to do was make sure he was okay. She would just peek in and ask if he needed anything and then go back to her own room. Hell, the kid was probably already asleep. He might not even hear her knock at all-

"Come in," his voice called from behind the door. There wasn't even a touch of doziness in his tone, no indication that he had been pulled from a restful slumber.

Renamon opened the door, telling herself that was just going to stick her head in, even as she stepped fully into the room and allowed the door to swing shut behind her.

"Hey Rookie," she spoke in a soft voice that she could not control. "I just wanted to make sure everything was still okay. Sorry if I woke you."

"I wasn't sleeping," the boy said, sitting up. Except for his shoes and socks that sat on the ground by the bed, the boy was fully dressed and didn't bother to cover himself with the sheets that pooled around his waist.

"The dreams?" she asked.

"Yeah. Well, I haven't had any yet, but that doesn't mean I won't."

"Just remember what The B-er, what LadyDevimon said; they can't really hurt you. And if you need anything, I'm right in the next room. Just knock on the wall and I'll come running."

"Thank you," the boy said with an honest gratitude that made Renamon smile just slightly.

"Yeah, well, I guess if you're okay I'll just go back to my room now, so… um… goodnight."

She had turned around and had her hand on the doorknob when Andrew called out to her: "Wait. Do… do you really have to go?"

Renamon turned around, telling herself that her heart was not speeding up. That it was just her imagination. "No. I guess I don't have to."

"It's just that..." The boy lowered his head a little, and even in the dark of the room, Renamon thought she could see a touch of embarrassment in his face. "I just don't want to be alone tonight."

"Scoot over," Renamon instructed as she crossed over to the bed. Andrew obeyed and she slid in next to him and settled in, offering him a soft smile. "Better?"

"Y-Yeah," he answered. "Thank you."

The boy then did something that both surprised, and delighted the fox at the same time; he rolled over and buried his face into the fur on her chest, one hand loosely grasping at her mane.

Moving slowly, almost testing the water, Renamon very delicately placed one arm around the boy and when he neither protested nor moved, she tightened her grip until it was something close to an embrace.

She told herself that she was doing this for Andrew; that he was the one that had invited her to the bed and, besides, they had slept close to one another for weeks now especially if it was a particularly cold night. This wasn't any different, even if it did feel better. And so what if her heart was beating a little bit faster and if she was blushing just a little. It was just warm in here under these blankets and with Andrew pressing against her. It was just warm, and comfortable, and… and right.

That was the last thought Renamon had as she drifted off to sleep; how, at least in that one short moment with Andrew's frame resting against her own, everything felt so right.

**To be continued. **


	25. Chapter 24

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

By all accounts Andrew should have fallen asleep the moment he had slipped under the covers of the first real bed he had crawled into for what felt like a lifetime. The mattress was soft, conforming into the curves of his body; the sheets were silky against his bare arms and feet, and the pillow faintly smelled of flowery laundry soap. After spending one night after another sleeping in the grass and dirt, being able to sleep in an actual bed should have more than enough to tip him over the edge and into the land of dreams. But that was what he was afraid of: The dreams. The horrible nightmares that tormented his sleeping mind to such a point that he even began having them while he was awake.

They were so real, so perfectly clear that every time he closed his eyes Andrew could see the sky rip open in a deep crimson red wound from which blood as thick as tar and black as midnight came pouring though destroying everything it touched. And that was just the one that he could remember; the classic hit of the collection. There were plenty of others that the boy knew he could recall if he allowed his mind to dig deep enough.

He had woken up that day as a zombie, simply going through the motions of his new life, no longer thinking or even caring about the world around him. He constantly found his eyes shooting distrustful glances at the sky as if he expected his dreams to come to life at any moment. The boy didn't notice when his feet stopped moving and his head stayed locked up at the morning's sky, just like how he didn't notice when the voices of the girls as they argued with one another faded away as they unknowingly left him behind, nor did he have any real recollection of the ten solid minutes that passed before Renamon had come running up to him, took him by the shoulders, and shook him out of his self-induced trance.

He had tried to lie to Renamon, telling her that he was okay because it was easier than telling the truth. There was no way to put into words how awful his nights had become, or the fear that gripped his heart during these nightmares. How was he supposed to explain the way he felt when he woke up in the middle of the night, a cold sweat running down his body despite the heat from the fire, and having to literally bite down on his tongue to keep from screaming? How could he tell her any of this without coming off as being weak, or worse: sounding like a little kid?

It had been LadyDevimon, of all people, that snapped him out of his downward spiral. Her words were as harsh were as sobering as a sudden splash of ice water to the face, but at the same time they were also the exact thing that he needed to hear, and even after that she tried to cheer him up in her own strange way.

Earlier that day while they were still following LadyDevimon around the resorts, getting a kind of 'unofficial tour', Renamon has remarked to him that the woman was just doing this for herself and trying to pass it off as a day off for all of them. Andrew had said nothing about it at the time because he didn't know if that was true or not. Now he did understand her honest attempt at hospitality, and that made him feel all the worse about what happened in the steam room, which lead him to the second reason the boy found it near impossible to sleep that night: the guilt.

LadyDevimon was an obviously beautiful woman, there was no arguing that. In fact, if it wasn't for her wings and left hand, she could very easily pass herself off as human. She was a very blunt woman, yes. She seemed to have no tolerance for stupidity or foolishness. LadyDevimon would have very likely described herself as someone who knew what she wanted and didn't care who she had to knock down to reach it, and not too long ago, Andrew might have believed that. He had seen a change in her over the last few days, though. She seemed to cool down a little; to 'mellow out' as the saying went. Andrew really did believe there was good inside of her.

Near what could have been the end of her life, LadyDevimon had made a single act of redemption by attacking Myotismon. Despite what she said were her reasons for doing so, Andrew simply couldn't let her die, but maybe that wasn't the only reason the boy went back for her. When the gateway had opened more one time and Renamon was trying to usher the boy through, his eyes had met the woman's. If she had pleaded with him, begged for her life, then Andrew might have just left her there, but she neither asked for his mercy or forgiveness. Instead she allowed her head to drop again as if she knew that this spot was to be her tomb because of her own doing; she understood it… and accepted it. He simply couldn't let that happen. After all, he had said it himself; everyone deserved to have a second chance.

Andrew didn't know what had happened in the woman's life that turned her into the person that she had become. LadyDevimon might have said that she was doomed from the start. There was a reason one was born as a 'dark' Digimon, after all. If that was true, then why had she changed to their side? She had been presented plenty of chances to kill either Renamon or himself by now as a means to save face with her old master, but didn't take one of them. No, if Andrew had to really guess he would say that the woman's path had been forged by a series of bad choices and worse luck. She had told him that she wasn't going to waste this second chance she had been given, and Andrew completely believed her. That was why he now thought that this day really was supposed to be about more that just her, despite how Renamon felt. This was a way to help the boy relax and unwind after everything he had been through (some of which LadyDevimon had caused herself). This, Andrew felt, was the Digimon's way of apologizing.

That's what made him feel even worse about what happened in the sauna.

Just as Andrew believed that LadyDevimon was trying to change her ways, he also believed her when she said that she could make him want her. He had felt her influence before inside of the castle walls; her words a sweet as honey, yet sharp as nails and they dug into his brain. Her eyes silently promising him everything he ever wanted to hear and her voice telling him that it was okay to let go, and who wouldn't want to let go? Every regret he ever felt, every mistake he had to live with, every memory and responsibility could be wiped away forever and all he had to do was give in. He almost did.

This second time, though, there had been no forceful influence of her will upon his. When she spoke, her words were just words and her eyes did not give false promising, but honest hope. If he hadn't been so thrown off, so flustered by events that kept happening so quickly in the span of seconds, he might have seen then what he saw now: there was vulnerability in those eyes. Maybe for the first time in her life, LadyDevimon had actually tried to open up to someone and Andrew had had very harshly tossed her aside. Was it any wonder she because angry with him, that in that short span of time allowed herself to revert to the person that she used to be?

The worst part was Andrew didn't think there was any way he could really apologize for that. She wanted him in a way that he honestly couldn't give himself. He was flattered by her affection, he'd have done just about anything to have been given even half that amount of attention by some girl back in his world, but he couldn't lie to her; couldn't give her false hope for feelings there weren't there. He liked her and he honestly started trusting her with his life, but... that was the best he could do. If things had been different, if he had met this softer side of her before he had met Renamon, then maybe there could have been something.

He had hurt her, and Andrew had the distinct feeling that he would never be able to make it up to her.

When the knock came on the door, Andrew fully expected it to be LadyDevimon who was either here to apologize for something that Andrew really didn't think she needed to fell sorry for, or to maybe make one last push at him. If it was the former, than he would try to explain things to her as best as he could and hope for the best, if it was the latter than he would be better prepared to let her down as gently as he could and once again hope for the best, so it was to his surprised when it was Renamon who stepped into his room that night.

He could make out little more than her silhouette, but even though the dark he could see her ears were slightly bent back against her head and the way she wrung her hands together before her. Andrew had only seen Renamon frightened one or twice before, but this was the first time he ever remembered seeing her nervous.

She apologized for waking him, but Andrew assured her that he wasn't asleep, and when she asked if it was because of the dreams, he said yes. Even though it wasn't the only reason, it was the biggest one. When he tried to sleep, the minutes ticked by and Andrew could do little else but lay there, becoming increasingly aware of how dark his room was, of how many shadowy corners there were for something to be lurking in, just waiting for a certain little boy to drift off. His ears had become in tune with the noises around him; every squeak of a floorboard was the sound of something coming to get him and every pipe settling in the wall was a monster trying to scratch its way though.

He had had the dreams every single night for days now and each time they grew worse. LadyDevimon has assured him that they weren't real despite how they might feel to him. He wasn't having some kind of psychic look into a doomed future, but instead was experiencing the last attempts of a desperate man trying to demoralize opponents that were closing in on him by the day, and while the boy didn't find it too reassuring that Myotismon was powerful enough of mess with his dreams, the idea that it really was nothing more then a cheap parlor trick; nothing but smoke and mirrors did have a sort of calming effect.

Even if they were just dreams, that didn't make them any better while he was having them. The nightmares still kept him from having any kind of real restful slumber, and the memories of them continued to bug him and would probably continue to do so until this whole mess came to its end, maybe even longer. So as Renamon said her goodbye and turned to leave, Andrew found himself calling out to her.

Just having her in the room with him made the boy feel better. He didn't feel like he was quite so alone in the middle of this world. The room just didn't appear as dark as it did a few minutes before and the noises that he heard, well, maybe they really were just the footsteps of some night-owl guest returning to their room or a pipe banging around inside the wall.

Even as he asked her to stay (to be honest; he practically begged her) Andrew felt a pang of self-reproach. After everything that had happened between himself and LadyDevimon, now here he was a few hours later asking Renamon not to leave his room. Maybe this made him a bad person, but so what if it did. Andrew never claimed to be a saint. He couldn't change the way he felt; Renamon just gave him a feeling of comfort and strength that LadyDevimon never could, and he was deeply sorry that things had to be like that. He wished that he could fix all of this, or have made it so the whole mess wouldn't have happened in the first place, but he could do neither. In that moment what he needed, whether it was selfish or not, was Renamon to just stay in the room with him for a little bit. He needed the sanity and security that he only felt when she was close by so that he may take one night to rest his weary mind and sort through the unchecked emotions that stormed through his head. When the time came to face Myotismon, Andrew did not want there to be even a sliver of doubt within him.

The boy would have been perfectly happy if Renamon had just sat down on one of the armchairs on the other side of the room and waited for him to fall asleep or maybe hung out by the door, but she was the one to walk up to the bed and crawled in next to him of her own will. He had suggested nothing of the sort; he only asked her to stay, she was the one who drew her own conclusions after that.

But in all fairness, Andrew did rolled over and buried his face into the soft fur of her mane, breathing in the sweet scent of her clean fur and basking in the warmth her body gave off. And when her arm gently found his way around his shoulder and pulled him just a little closer, a sense of peace like he had never known flooded him.

If asked later, both would have honestly said that it was the other that suggested actually sharing the bed that night. They also would have said that neither one knew exactly why they felt the need to huddle so close together, but the one thing that they would agree on was this: in that moment late at night when the world around them had gone quiet and dark, it was so nice to have someone to hold on to.

Andrew had no dreams that night.

**O O O**

The next morning the three met down in the dining room for breakfast and the last real meal they knew they were going to share in a long time. Andrew, Renamon, and even LadyDevimon who always ever-so carefully counted her calories and watched her waistline, took advantage of the buffet. All of them went back for several helpings that morning and, if Andrew still had the pack with him, they most likely would have stuffed that full of food as well. Both Andrew and Renamon (neither of which looked like they fit the resort's normal breed of cliental) received several odd looks from the kitchen staff and guests, but since no one approached them or tried to force them away, they didn't care. For all Andrew knew, maybe it was because LadyDevimon was with them. Whatever the case may be, the trio had their fill that day and it was the best meal any of them had eaten in a long time.

Out in the lobby Rosemon was waiting to see off her old friend. The two hugged each other once again and this time Rosemon even planted an air kiss to either side of LadyDevimon's cheeks. As the two chatted with one another, exchanging pleasantries, Andrew thought to himself that at some point he was going to have to ask exactly how the two met if he remembered later. After all, LadyDevimon didn't seem to be the kind who liked to make friends.

"Now remember to come back again soon," Rosemon was saying as Andrew blinked away from his thoughts and rejoined the world. "It's not fair how the time between your visits keeps getting longer."

LadyDevimon answered with a small grin: "I've just been busy, you understand. But I promise as soon as I get my affairs in order I'll be right back in, how does that sound?"

"Music to my ears, darling. Be sure to bring your friends again, okay?"

"Of course." She nodded.

Rosemon approached Andrew and Renamon and shook their hands much in the same way as when they came in the day before. "Thank you once again for your visit," she said. "Any friend of LadyDevimon is welcome at Rosemon Resorts any time. Please come back soon, and stay safe. It can get ugly out there."

The last of the goodbyes were quickly passed around before the trio departed, leaving both Rosemon and her resort hotel to fade away into memory.

**O O O**

For the next three days the trio was on the move almost non-stop. They could all feel it almost as soon as they stepped out the doors: the heaviness. The push. The feeling that something that eyes could not see, but the heart could sense was coming. No one had to even make a remark about it, they all knew the other felt it, and they all knew it for what it was: the end. In one shape or another, this really was the final stretch.

Rather then keep them away, that invisible magnetic force that Andrew first felt when their trio was still a duo closing in on the castle only beckon them on. It spoke to them. 'Hurry,' it said. 'Time is shorter than you thought. His power weakens. His power grows. Hurry or be lost. Hurry or we will all be lost!'

Walking felt far too slow for the three who each felt the need to move at an almost suicidal pace. This wasn't a trick, of that they were sure. They were not being lured prematurely into a trap. The anxiety the felt was very real and it was best to be obeyed.

LadyDevimon soared ahead on her ripped, but elegant wings while Renamon held on to the boy as she leapt across the canopies or raced along ground if the treetops weren't close enough to use. After several hours LadyDevimon offered to carry Andrew along so Renamon could rest. The fox refused at first despite her heavy panting. She most likely half expected the boy to be carried away from her again. It took at lot of reassurance from both LadyDevimon and Andrew for Renamon to finally give up, but even then she kept very close to the two of them as LadyDevimon held Andrew as she flew with Renamon always watching out of the corner of her eyes. Renamon did not completely trust the woman and never would, but this was about as close to an olive branch as the two would ever really get. At the very least the arguing had stopped. In fact, expect for short discussion about if LadyDevimon could be trusted with caring the boy for awhile, the three of them didn't talk at all.

They traveled further then they ever had before, burning up as much of the daylight (and a little of the moonlight) as they safely could and by the end of the first night, they could see darkness up ahead rolling in like storm clouds. None of them were fooled into thinking a storm was all it was.

They found very little to eat that night.

After another day of endless travel and near complete silence the trio found themselves in the middle of the blackness. It was exactly as it had been before; dimness hung over everything and ate away at the heart and soul. Everything seemed to hold the look of death. The trees that dotted around them stood tall and proud, each looked a little washed out but perfectly healthy, yet at the same time it seemed perfectly reasonable that any or all of them could go to rot at any second now. The rocks and boulders around them now appeared brittle, like a single touch could send even the biggest among them shattering into pieces. Everything felt dark, and everything felt wrong, and they were going to have to make camp right in the middle of it.

They traveled farther then ever that night, not because they wanted to keep going, but because no one wanted to stop. Finally there was no choice in the middle of near blackness under a dark sky from which the light of no moon or star could penetrate, the three sat down to camp. The fire that night would not stay lit and they were constantly feeding more and more logs into the flames. They slept in shifts; Renamon first, then LadyDevimon, and finally Andrew.

They found even less to eat that night.

The third day was very similar to the second, the dark clouds overheard produced nothing more then heat lighting, but still threatened to bring down a storm of apocalyptic proportions. When Renamon pointed that out, Andrew commented that he hoped someone out there was building an arc.

Renamon could now visually see the decay that she felt two days prior; trees stood barren, black, and snarled around them; the grass had become spotty and had taken on a yellow hue; and at one point they came across a massive field of weeds and vines that only a few days ago might have been flowers. This world was already suffocating.

By the time they made camp that night they could see a tiny splotch of red hanging in the sky off in the distance and even in the blackest hour of the night it continued to burn almost like an eye was watching them; an eye that never blinked.

None of them slept that night.

They found nothing to eat.

**O O O**

Andrew, Renamon, and LadyDevimon stood outside a black iron gate. It loomed close to six feet high and the top was covered with decorative spikes that looked sharp enough to cut through to the bone. Before them there stood thousands of gravestones that stretched on for miles. From the way Renamon had described this place, Andrew had imagined something holy and sacred, instead he found himself before a graveyard that would look better in a horror flick. Many of the headstones had fallen over. Those which still stood were chipped and worn; some were even broken into pieces. He could only make out the inscriptions of a few of them, but many were worn away to nothing. All this place needed was a layer of fog on the ground and the picture would have been complete. Andrew vaguely wondered if he wasn't having another nightmare.

"Does it always look like this?" the boy asked, not needed to explain exactly what he meant.

"No," Renamon said, her voice sounded low and stunned. "No, this is all wrong. This was supposed to be sacred ground; maybe the most holy in all of the Digital World and Myotismon he..."

"He twisted it," LadyDevimon spat. "This is just a preview of how the whole world is going to be if we don't stop him."

"We _will_," Andrew said not sure if he was trying to convince the girls or himself. "We have to."

The left door to the gate stood open, the right had fallen off its hinges and lay half buried in some overgrown weeds. Once again they were being invited in, and once again there was nothing to do but keep moving forward. Their destination was obvious enough: off in the distance stood the only completely intact structure among the gravestones and mausoleums: a church, but even this had become twisted: the siding had turned yellow and cracked. Vines with sharp and impossibly long looking thorns crawled up and down the walls. Tall glass windows that should have shown mosaic pictures of gods and holy men were instead solid black and seemed to glare at them like a dozen angry eyes. Even the steeple at the top of the church was bent and twisted in an 'S' shape by some unknown force. No cross stood at the top.

The three made their way along the dirt path. Andrew was in the middle with LadyDevimon on his left and Renamon on his right. Without realizing it, the three of them had moved close enough together for their arms to brush. Renamon's tail had puffed out and her ears stood strait up on her head, constantly twitching this way and that as if trying to sort through a thousand different sounds. LadyDevimon's eyes kept scanning the headstones. She was constantly looking back over her shoulder. Andrew didn't know if she was trying to watch every direction at once, or if she really thought they were being followed. Andrew, however, kept his eyes only on the church. He refused to look anywhere else, refused to let his own cruel mind wander into dark places to scare him any worse then he was.

Renamon stopped suddenly, grabbing hold of the boy's arm almost hard enough to hurt. "Do you hear that?" she said, glaring off into the distance.

All three of them tried to look in every direction at once, and even though Andrew couldn't hear a thing, he could feel it: like a thousand eyes were watching them.

"This is going to get bad," LadyDevimon whispered, and is if on cue, that was when the Bakemon appeared.

They rose from behind every grave, from every tree, behind every rock; first dozens and then hundreds of small, ghost-like creatures. Their short bodies that looked like ripped sheets floated above the ground and anything that might have been comical about a bed sheet ghost was lost by the large drooling mouths filled with huge, sharp teeth.

"Don't let them surround us," LadyDevimon cried as the Bakemon came after them. They moved slowly, at least. At the same time Renamon fired her Diamond Storm at one group, LadyDevimon released a wave of dark energy in the shape of bats from her hands at another. Both attacks stuck their intended targets, and each Bakemon hit exploded into a ball of light, but no sooner was one taken out that two more took its place. The duo attacked again and again against the crowd, but never seemed to even dent the numbers.

"We need to get out of here," Renamon called over her shoulder as she blasted away at another advancing horde.

"The church," Andrew said. "We need to get inside the church."

Each pushing themselves as fast as their bodies could handle, the three sprinted for the front doors to the building. Andrew had no idea if it would be any safer in there, but staying out here meant being overwhelmed. The Bakemon might not be strong, but they had seemingly endless numbers. At least inside there they could barricade, maybe even bottleneck their assailants to attack them easier. It was a desperate move, but also the best one they had.

Renamon and LadyDevimon kept on the heat, never pausing in their attacks to keep the opposition at bay. As soon as they destroyed one row, another one would just take its place and meanwhile there were more creeping in from the left and right. It never occurred to any of the three that they might have been 'funneled' towards the church, or how when the Bakemon did attack with their teeth and claws, they were not aimed at the boy, who would have been the easiest target, but rather at the other two; thus constantly slowing them down and keeping them on the offensive.

So, as it was, Andrew was the first to reach the doors. He grabbed a hold of both handles and threw them open. He had just enough time to think about how lucky they were that the doors weren't locked shut before a burst of energy like a shockwave burst into his body. Andrew was knocked off his feet and sent flying backwards, but instead of smacking hard against the ground, he just kept falling.

Falling.

Falling...

**O O O**

There was a loud, high pitched beeping coming from his left side. Blindly reaching towards it, the boy's hand came down on something hard and plastic. He felt around until his fingers brush against the button he was looking for. He pressed down and the beeping ended. For several minutes he stayed like that; lying on his back, arm outstretched, only barely awake. Finally he pushed himself up and forced his eyes open.

Warm sunlight poured in from a nearby window, lighting up the room. Outside he could hear birds chirping and the occasional soft 'whoosh' of a car passing. Pushing down the covers that lay over his legs, Andrew forced himself to sit on the edge of the bed. He rubbed his tired eyes and tried to get some spit going inside of his dry mouth. The boy finally dared to open his eyes against the morning's light and gazed upon the familiar sight of his bedroom.

His room was the same as ever; his closet doors stood on the other side from where was sitting, a TV with his videogames hooked up too it rested at the wall opposite of the foot of the bed, posters decorated his walls; some were for bands he liked, others for movies, and some didn't represent anything at all. They just looked cool.

Standing up from the matress, Andrew made his way to the closet where he pulled down a pair of jeans and gray shirt. His mom always got on him about his choice in clothes. 'Can't you wear anything other than jeans and t-shirts'; she had asked him more times than he could count. But he liked jeans and he liked t-shirts so as long as he liked them, he would wear them.

After stripping off his pajamas and putting on the clothing that made his mother groan, Andrew made his way to the dresser where he fished out a pair of socks. As he was putting them on the boy allowed his eyes to drift over the numerous stuff he had stowed on top of the thing: a stack of old Christmas cards he needed to pitch, a bowling trophy he won years ago, a CD player complete with a stack of CDs that he no longer listened to now that he had the songs saved to his computer.

_It's all digital now, baby,_ Andrew mused as he yanked his sock over his ankle.

The boy stopped, his mind coming out of its early-morning haze. There was something about that thought he just had that struck him in an odd way.

He had had a dream last night. A really wild one. He could barely remember it, but it was way out there. He thought he could remember storm clouds and something about a forest, but…

Andrew shook his head to clear it. Just a dream, that was all. It wasn't a nightmare, but it wasn't exactly a good dream either. At least, he didn't think so. He was already forgetting most of it, anyway. Dreams were strange like that. No matter how real they seem when you're having them, they always made you feel foolish afterward for believing them.

Leaving his room, Andrew went across the upstairs hall and into the bathroom where he drained his bladder, got a drink of water, and washed up. With that early morning routine done, the boy went back out into the hall and made his way towards the stairs and the kitchen that lay just at its foot. He could hear as well as smell the sounds of bacon cooking on the stove. His stomach began to growl with hunger as Andrew thought of the spread his mom would be cooking: extra crispy bacon, scrambled eggs, toast with strawberry jam, and a glass of fresh orange juice; the breakfast of champions. Andrew rubbed his gut, feeling like he hadn't eaten a decent meal in days.

Jumping the last three stairs, Andrew used the banister to make a hard left and walked into the kitchen. His mother stood with her back to him at the stove, using a spatula to move the bacon from the skillet onto a plate.

"Mornin' mom," Andrew called as he turned towards the fridge to pour himself a glass of juice.

"Good timing," she said with a quick look over her shoulder. "Breakfast is just about ready. I thought I was going to have to drag your lazy butt downstairs myself."

Andrew chuckled at this. There was nothing particularly funny about what she said, but he was just in such a good mood that morning. Everything felt new and clean, and for a young carefree boy of his age, the world was going pretty great.

That was when Andrew heard a sound behind him. It was coming from the table in the part of the kitchen you couldn't see until you were already in the room. Andrew turned; empty glass in one hand, a gallon of orange juice in the other, and nearly dropped them both.

Someone sat at the table and the sound that Andrew was the rustling of the newspaper in that person's hands and they shook it to get out the wrinkles. Andrew watched with wide-eyed wonder and the person closed the paper, folded it in half, and then set it aside.

The man at the table looked up at the boy and offered him a warm smile. "Morning, Andrew. Sleep well?"

Andrew's body felt close to trembling and his mouth suddenly felt dry again as he meet eyes with the man in his kitchen. When he finally was able to speak, his voice was little more than a harsh whisper.

"Dad?"

**To be continued.**


	26. Chapter 25

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

Robert Roth was a tall man in his early fifties who's years of working construction had given him muscular arms and a deep tan, however an equal number of years of enjoying a beer or two after getting off work to unwind had also produced a bit of a potbelly. His hair was dark, but not quite black, and was cut in the same military style that the man seemed to boast all of his life. Grey was starting to creep in around the sides, but Robert had always refused coloring it, often saying that he enjoyed the look of sophistication his 'salt-and-pepper' hair gave him. The man sitting across from him matched this description perfectly, yet Andrew still stared at him like a complete stranger.

"Andrew, are you okay? You don't look so good," the man asked with honest concern in his voice.

The boy's legs began to tremble and the gallon of juice he held in one had began to feel like it was gaining hundreds of pounds. He had to force himself to look away from the man just long enough to place the carton back on the counter behind him before he lost his grip on the thing and spilled a full gallon of juice all over the kitchen floor. He turned back not knowing what he would see, or if it would even be the same person looking back at him, but it was.

"Andrew? Son?" Now the man was starting to push himself up from his chair and even his mother had turned to look at what was going on, bacon forgotten. He couldn't begin to imagine what they were thinking. He probably looked like a terrified rabbit that had been trapped in a corner by a pack of wolves.

"Dad, you're-"

The next word he was going to speak, already half formed on his lips and tongue, suddenly vanished, leaving the boy standing silently with his jaw half open like an idiot. He searched for the word, the one that just a fraction of a second ago he knew but now could not find. He suddenly became very aware of the eyes upon him, of the expressions on their faces as they looked at their son who must have appeared to be two steps away from suddenly bursting into convulsions on the floor.

"You're home," he finally finished. "I thought you were working today." It was a lame end to the sentence and gave no excuse to the way he had just acted, more importantly; he still didn't think that was the word he wanted. He knew he was going to say something different and he knew that it was important, but now he just could not remember what it was, and ever time he tried to dig the thought out of his mind he came up with nothing but dull, white nothingness.

Whatever the case, his parents seemed to be satisfied with his answer. His mother turned back to the stove, humming to herself while trying to save the last few strips of bacon from burning to the skillet, and the man, his father, lowered himself back into the chair. Both of them looked calm again.

"Well of course," Robert said, "It's Saturday, after all. You've only been on summer vacation for a week now; don't tell me you're already losing track of the days."

Summer vacation... that sounded right, or he thought it did at least, but there was still something that felt a little off. Andrew would have thought that he would remember being on vacation. When he woke up this morning he neither worried about trying to catch the bus, nor did he bask in the joy of three whole months without school. If he had been a month in, he could understand taking for granted not having to wake up first thing in the morning to spend seven hours a day, five days a week at a place he hated, but if it had only been a week...

If Andrew knew anything about himself, it was that the first few weeks of summer left him feeling ecstatic; no more pencils, no more school books, no more teacher's dirty looks, and all that good stuff Alice Cooper once sang about. Yet when he woke up this morning he didn't think about any of that stuff. In fact, he didn't really think about anything; only started to go through the motions of the day like he had a thousand times before.

Then again, if he did do that morning routine day in and day out, then why did things seem so strange this time? Andrew couldn't quite put his finger on it, but that was the way he felt and every time he tried to reason it out he had the same problem he had trying to remember the word the got away; his mind just drew a blank.

_Just like that weird dream,_ Andrew thought again, but the excuse failed to satisfy.

Once again the boy tried to recall whatever crazy thing it was his mind had created for him during the night. It hadn't been a good dream, he thought he could recall being deafly afraid at times, but that didn't mean the boy was ready to call it a nightmare, either. The dream he had felt somewhere in the middle of the two and there was something about it that felt important. Almost like, if he could just remember one vital thing, then this weird feeling that kept gnawing at the back of his mind would finally make sense.

Now that the numbness had gone from his legs and his hands felt steady once again, Andrew gave pouring himself a glass of juice one more try. He moved more carefully than what was probably necessary, acting more like he was handing high explosives rather than Minute Maid, but his carefulness at least kept him from spilling anything.

The boy made his way over to the table and took his normal seat.

"Are you sure you're okay?" his father asked one more time as the boy settled in.

"Yeah, fine," Andrew answered, sounding a bit more believable now that he was feeling better. "I guess I'm still half asleep, is all."

"It's because you stay up too late," his mother gently scolded as she brought over two plates of food, setting one down in front of her son and the other in front of her husband. "Summer or not, you need to get on an earlier schedule or you're going to keep sleeping half the day away."

"Oh, let the boy enjoy his time off. You're only young once," he father answered, tipping Andrew a wink.

"Exactly," she continued as she brought over her own plate. "He should be outside playing rather then spending all day long in his room sleeping or playing videogames. They'll rot his brain."

"That's why I thought Andrew and I would head down to the park and having a little father-and-son bonding over a game of catch, how's that sounding?" he asked, looking from his wife to his son.

Andrew smiled and said it sounded great, temporarily putting on the hold the search for the memories of his dream as he thought of the park his father had mentioned.

Blackburn Park was within walking distance from their home-or 'biking distance' if Andrew was heading there alone. It was a large area with a bike path, a playground, basketball and tennis courts, and well as tons of open grass that unofficially marked the entrance to their suburb. There used to be a wooden sign that read 'Welcome to Blackburn' and reminded the visitor to keep our park clean. It had stood there proudly until three years ago when someone crashed their car into it. Since then the city had never gotten around to replacing it. Some of the local kids even referred to the place as 'BlackBurned-Rubber' in reference to the accident caused by some teenager or another who was trying to show off his new sports car to his friends. At least, that was how the story went. Andrew had no way to verifying its authenticity.

The food his mother placed before him was the exact spread he had predicted earlier; strips of crispy bacon, toast with strawberry jelly, and a pile of scrambled eggs like how he liked. Andrew picked up his fork and scooped up a big chunk of eggs, brought it up towards his mouth.

_Yellow,_ he thought absently. _The eggs are yellow._

Andrew's hand suddenly stopped halfway to his mouth. Of course the eggs were yellow. Eggs were supposed to be yellow, only… only it wasn't the eggs. It was the color, something about that color. Yellow. Something from his dream was yellow, but what? The sun was yellow. Flowers could be yellow, so could teeth if you didn't take care of them. Lemonade was yellow, too. All of these things were right and at the same time, none of them were. Still the color, or at least the idea of that color, somehow stuck.

Something was yellow, that was important, yet that was as far as he could get his mind to go. It was almost like a toll booth had been set up inside of his head and Andrew didn't have the exact change to move his thoughts any further. It was maddening and a little terrifying.

_Maybe I'm getting a brain tumor or maybe this is the start of some kind of early Alzheimer's. Not being able to remember one stupid dream might be one thing, but suddenly not being able to recall a sentence you were already half finished with, or how long you've on vacation? Why can't I even remember when my last day of school was? Why can't I remember what I did yesterday, or what I had for dinner? What's going on?_

Andrew popped the eggs into his mouth, suddenly not really wanting them even though his stomach was still crying out that it was starving. Still, he didn't want to arise any more suspicion from his parents. Maybe he was still half-asleep or maybe he was going nuts, but he could not shake the feeling that things felt off, but he didn't want his mom and dad looking at him like that again. There was honest concern on their faces; however there was also something else. It only lasted for a moment, but Andrew thought he could see something else hiding just behind there eyes. He couldn't say exactly what it was, but what he did know was that he didn't like the way it made him feel. It was almost as if there was anger hidden just behind the concern, but anger caused by what, exactly?

_Something important was yellow_, his tired mind said to him one more time before Andrew decided to put the whole mess behind him and just get on with his day. He just didn't want to dwell on it anymore. He just wanted to get back to reality.

**O O O **

Andrew and his father strolled down the sidewalk of their quiet suburb, each of them wearing a baseball glove on one hand, but Andrew was the one holding the ball. He would lazily turn it over in one hand, feeling the stitches brush against his palm. The air was warm and still as the summer sun-

_yellow, but not the right yellow_

-beat down from an almost cloudless sky. It was the perfect day for outdoor grills, for street carnivals and swimming in a lake. It was the kind of day that simply could not go wrong. No one could die on a day like this. All the wars were put on hold and the soldiers given the afternoon off. You held doors open for complete strangers on days like this and if you came to a stop sign at the same moment as another guy, you let him go first. You had to smile in this weather, hell, you almost had to skip. It was perfect. Everything was perfect, and ever since he let go of trying to chase down the memories of some stupid dream that meant absolutely nothing, Andrew discovered how happy he was; to be alive, to be young, and to be with his father.

It was the last one that really meant more then the others. Andrew loved his dad, nearly idolized him. Robert Roth was everything the boy wanted to be when he grew up. The man was strong both physically and emotionally. He was easy to get along with no matter who you were, and if he liked you, well, there was nothing in the world he wouldn't do you for. However, he was also a man who stood up against anything that rubbed him wrong. For as friendly as he was, if he didn't like you, he would let you know. And if you were to ever do anything to threaten himself or someone he did like, well, the man wasn't above kicking some ass when the ass needed to be kicked. Clark Kent be damned, _his_ dad was the real Superman.

As they walked into the park and found themselves a nice, open area away from any other visitors where they could toss the ball back and forth for awhile, Andrew couldn't help but think of how elated he was. They were just going to play a simple game of catch just as millions of fathers and sons before them, yet to the boy it felt like Christmas and his birthday all rolled up into one. It felt like forever since they had last hung out. This was silly, of course. They did stuff together every weekend.

Hours slipped by as the two tossed the ball. Andrew was a little rusty at first, his throws either going way off course or bouncing into his father's shoes, but after a few warm-ups he finally go into the rhythm of things. Late morning gave way to late afternoon and their shadows were now trailing along the opposite sides they were on when the two first entered the park.

They had been talking for awhile, just stupid little small talk, nothing important. After some time of chatting and joking and laughing, his father began to announce Andrew's pitches like a baseball announcer, to which he happily took to the roll. The boy, now acting like a major league player, pretended to spit out chewing tobacco he didn't have and looked around to check the bases that weren't really there, all while trying not to bust up laughing at his father, not because he was bad that the impression; but rather because he was really good.

"Bottom of the ninth," Robert called. "Bases loaded, full count. It all comes down to this one last pitch. Can the Wonder Kid, Andrew Roth, throw this last strike and secure the championship. The crowds have gone silent, no one dares to breathe. Here's the windup..."

Andrew lifted up one leg and cocked his arm back in the best mock major league pose he could manage.

"And the pitch!"

The boy let the ball rip with everything he had. The ball sliced trough the air, spinning as it went, all the way right into his father's waiting glove.

"Swing and a miss! Strike three! He's done it! It's over! The crowd goes wild!"

Andrew threw his head back and laughed, even raised up one hand to wave at the invisible crowd of spectators cheering his game-winning pitch. He was so into the illusion that he almost thought he could hear them chant his name. If that had been where the playful joking ended, then Andrew would have gone on happily living this life, but as the boy readied himself for his father's pitch, the man added one more comment in that announcer voice just as he threw the ball that made the boy stop cold.

"That's right ladies and gentlemen," the man said in his pretend over-the-top voice as he readied his pitch. "This hot young rookie can not be stopped!"

Rookie. His mind seized on this word like it was the last lifeboat on a sinking ship.

_Rookie. Yellow. She calls me rookie._ He had spent all of breakfast and most of the walk up here trying to shove those thoughts out of his head. He didn't like trying to remember these things, and he didn't like the feeling of confusion and desperation when the words wouldn't come. Andrew had thought he was successful in putting those thoughts out of his head, but now he saw that all he had really done was wall them up. Now that one word had caused to wall to collapse.

_It was a joke at first, _he thought, _a joke at my expense, but then I think it changed. I think it became something more like a… a term of endearment. _

Who called him 'rookie'? The yellow, of course. Who was the yellow? He didn't know this yet, but it was closer, that much he knew for sure. If he could just dig a little deeper, then maybe-

"Andrew!"

His father's cry snapped the boy out of his daze. Robert would never be a major league pitcher, but the man still had quite the arm on him, and always had good aim. Andrew didn't see his father throw his fastball until it was too late. The boy only had time to turn his head to one side to save his nose as a ball made of cork and rubber traveling at nearly sixty miles-per-hour connected with the boy's cheek, sending him sprawling to the ground.

"Oh shit," he heard his father cry out; surprising since the man rarely swore, as the man raced over to his son's side. "Are you okay? Oh god, lemme look."

Andrew sat up, holding one hand over the cheek where he was hit.

"It's okay, I'm fine." When Andrew spoke, he was only spouting off the same song and dance that everyone did after they had done something stupid and then got hurt because of it. His response had come out automatic, but he realized... it was true. As impossible as it was, he honestly felt fine.

Andrew stood up, his father reached out to steady him, but the boy waved him away. He pressed down on his left cheek, waiting to feel something; some sort of pain or swelling, maybe even find that his cheek bone had been shattered, but there was no pain. Nothing at all.

That feeling of 'wrongness' suddenly fell over the boy once again, only now it was stronger then ever. This wasn't right and he knew it. You weren't hit with anything that hard and traveling that fast and come out unharmed, especially in the face. Yet he had. His head began to swim with thousands of half-formed thoughts and ideas. _Now_ he felt dizzy.

An oak tree standing several feet away caught his eye, and without even thinking about it, Andrew started to walk towards it. He kept his mind blank, trying to think of nothing. If he was really going to do what he believed he was going to do, it was best not to think about it; not because he might chicken out, but because he honestly felt that thinking out it would somehow... change the results. It sounded crazy, but at the same time it also seemed true. If he thought something was going to hurt, it would hurt, but if he didn't…

From behind him Andrew's father began to call his name, asking him where he was going and what he thought he was doing. The man sounded sincere at first, even a little scared, but when his son neither slowed nor even acknowledged him that tone chanced. It became darker, angrier, and maybe even a little fearful; the way some people get when you're about to stumble upon their dirty secrets. He called out again.

Not wanting to be stopped, Andrew changed from a walk to a run. He needed to do this; something in his mind just told him that if he did then everything would make sense. It was insanity, it had to be. No normal person would do what he was about to; especially not expecting what he was, but something his brain told him this needed to be done. He had to remember.

Racing at the tree full charge, hearing his father trying to catch up from behind, Andrew stripped off his glove, balled his right hand into a fisted, pulled it back, and then punched the trunk of the oak tree with all of his might.

When it ended and he allowed his mind to think again, he expected many things: searing pain, pouring blood, maybe even several broken fingers. What he got when he pulled his hand away to inspect the damage... was nothing. No broken bones, no blood, not even a scratch. He was fine.

Alarm bells started to go off in his head. They told him what he already suspected; something was wrong with this, with everything, but now they added something new; he might also be in danger, and when he turned around and saw the expression on the face of the man who stood behind him, Andrew knew these things to be true.

"Why can't I feel it?" Andrew said as he raised his uninjured right hand, which by all accounts should have been a bloody, mangled mess. "Why can't I feel _anything_?"

That was when he noticed something that made his stomach sink: they were alone here, and they had been all day. It was a warm, beautiful Saturday, and yet the park was completely empty. No children played on the swings, no joggers ran along the path, there wasn't even the sounds of a car driving past the park. They were completely by themselves here. They had been here for hours and yet he had not seen a single soul.

Yet even this was not entirely correct. Andrew _thought_ that it had been hours since he got up that morning, but now that he thought about it, _really_ thought about it, even this felt wrong. He could remember starting to eat breakfast, but not finishing it. Andrew didn't even recall going up to his room to get his ball and glove. One second he was eating and the next... they were walking towards the park; a fifteen minute walk that they made in a few short seconds. Time was jumping around and his brain was just filling in the things that did not happen almost like...

"A dream," Andrew said as he started to realize what was going on. He didn't understand it, but it was coming to him now slowly but surely. "This isn't real. This is the dream. Everything else; that was the real part. But I can't remember it. Why can't I remember it? What did you do to me?"

"You're not well, Andrew," the man said as he started to slowly walk towards the boy. "Everything's okay, son-"

"Don't call me that," Andrew shrieked as he stumbled backwards, wanting to keep the distance between them. "I'm not your son! You're not my father! My dad is... he's... he's..."

Andrew held his head in his hands, looking like someone with the mother of all migraines. He felt no such pain, of course, but there was confusion. The word was right there, right on the tip of his tongue. He could feel it, but there was something blocking it, blocking all of his memories. It really was like a wall, trying to keep his memories locked up, because they were dangerous. Not to him, but to everything else. Because if he could remember, if he could just recall that one vital thing.

_Yellow. Everything is yellow. The sun is yellow, eggs are yellow, she is yellow. She calls me rookie, but she's not being mean. Yellow is good, but red is bad. Have to look out for the red. The skies are red. Everything is red. Everything is bleeding. Everything is red. Your father is red. Red, lead, fed, said, bed. Everything is red and your father is-_

"Dead," Andrew whispered, and the thing that wore Robert's face jerks back as if struck. "You're not my father. He's... dead." A low moan escaped the boy's lips that the realization.

The face of the man standing before him darkened and twisted into an expression of anger and hate that Andrew had never seen before, but it confirmed what Andrew already knew for sure; this thing is not his father. He would never be capable of looking like that.

"You little shit," he said, vomiting out the words. "You worthless pile of puke. I offered you everything you ever wanted, and dare to spit upon it." The man who was not his father began to advance towards him. "I gave you a way out. Your every dream granted, your every wish fulfilled and all you had to do was accept it."

Andrew turned to run. He had to flee, he had to get away from the beast that wore his father's face, but no sooner did he turn around did he see the man was standing directly in front of him again, eyes boring into him.

"But you wouldn't," the man cried as he brought up his right hand and struck Andrew across the face hard enough to send him sprawling to the ground. This time, the blow did hurt. "You could have died in peace. You could have just been happy and stayed out of my way."

The floodgates holding back Andrew's memories opened as he lay on the ground and his mind filled with all of the places, events, and people he had forgotten. Now that he knew this wasn't real, there wasn't any reason to keep fooling him, it seemed. Whatever power that had kept his mind at bay broke.

He could remember it now: running from the Bakemon, throwing open the church door, then some kind of invisible force striking him in the chest. He's knocked out and then wakes up here.

"Renamon, and LadyDevimon. Where are they, what have you done to them?" Andrew cried as he pushed himself to his feet, trying to ignore the stinging pain stabbing through the side of his face, or the taste of blood in his mouth.

Andrew's Not-Father smiled at this, his grin cruel. "They're dead."

"No. No, you're lying!" he screamed in reply, challenging both the monster and his words with a bold step forward, but neither Andrew's loud voice or threatening stance deterred the imposter.

"They were killed trying to protect you," it mocked. "So, in a way, _you_ killed them. Your only friends in your entire pathetic life and you killed them."

Andrew watched with growing horror as blood began to pour from his Not-Father's head. The left side of his skull suddenly caved in sending splatters of gore and brains flying in all directions. His neck snaps to an unnatural position with an audible pop. His ribcage collapsed inside of his chest, and one arm snapped in seven different places with sickening sounds. The skin on the left side of his body looked to Andrew like raw hamburger.

It was a closed casket at Robert Roth's funeral. Andrew never saw the body, but he once wondered how terrible it must have been for those that did. He had sometimes imagined (always against his will) what he might have looked like. What stood before him now, bloody and mangled and raw, was the embodiment of his deepest, darkest suspensions and nightmares.

"It's it funny how everyone you love ends up leaving you?" The monster cooed in a voice that longer even sounded like his father. It sounded more like gravel and rot. "You've lost. Everyone is dead and you killed them. You were too weak. Too slow. You're no DigiDestined and never were."

The sound of wailing cries hit Andrew's ears. The boy turns his head away from one monstrosity and towards another. He sees his mother walking towards him. She was weeping. Her hair hung wild and unkempt around her head and her makeup ran down her face in great streams.

"Why did you leave me?" she accused. "Why did you just go away? Look at what you made me do to myself!" The woman raised her hands palms out to the boy as if in surrender. There were two deep cuts along her wrists that went all the way down to the bone with crimson blood pouring out of them in what seemed like an endless steam, staining her clothes and wilting the grass it spilled upon. His mother screamed: "_Look at what you made me do!_"

The boy noticed how dark the day suddenly has become, and despite the horrors closing in around him he allowed his stunned eyes to look upwards at the sky. The beauty and warmth of that day are long gone. Black storm clouds had rolled in blocking out every last bit of light. Above him, a red scar began to open in the heaves and in a few moments he knows it will begin to bleed its thick, black rain; the one that would signal the storm to end all storms.

Andrew opened his mouth and screamed.

**To be continued.**


	27. Chapter 26

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

The Bakemon poured out from every crevasse of the twisted graveyard like locus, threatening to surround their group and rip them apart with their sharpened fangs and claws. If there had only been a few Renamon would have had no problems taking them out herself; the Bakemon weren't exactly known for strength or intelligence. They wouldn't have been anything more than a warm-up for the real right to come, but there hadn't been a few, there had been hundreds upon hundreds of the creatures and every time she would destroy one, she would discover another had taken its place. If this kept up, they could be surrounded in seconds. While that didn't necessarily mean death, Renamon wasn't interested in tempting fate any more then they already had, so when Andrew ordered them into the church for cover, she was more then happy to oblige.

They raced along the dirt path as it wove around headstones and dead trees all the while trying to keep out of the Bakemons reach. Renamon constantly found herself being slowed by the beasts as they tried to close in around her time after time. A blast from her Diamond Storm was enough to clear her some space, but there were always her own claws to fight with if anything came in too close.

Just ahead of her, she could see LadyDevimon struggling to keep her own way clear. For one terrifying second she couldn't see Andrew through the chaos, but when she was able to gain a little ground she spotted the boy lunging for the church doors. She had a perfectly clear view of what happened next, but still didn't believe what she saw; Andrew threw the doors open hard enough for the kid to stumble on his feet, probably not expecting them to be unlocked or at least to not open so easily, Renamon thought. The inside of the church was dim, but not quite dark. The faint flickering orange light from inside suggested that at least a few candles were burning. From where she was, Renamon could see perfectly well that there was no one or nothing standing in the doorway expect for the boy, yet he had taken no more then a single step into the room when he suddenly and violently few backwards as if sometime had tied a bungee cord around his waist and yanked him back.

No one had been there to physically strike him, and Renamon didn't see any kind of attack hit him, yet the boy was still knocked backward. He hit the ground, his head just barely missing a large rock sticking halfway out of the earth, but then didn't move. The fall wasn't hard, and from here Renamon couldn't see any kind of damage to the child, but Andrew refused to get up.

Renamon cried out the boy's name as she raced over to him. From beside her she heard LadyDevimon ask what had happened. Renamon ignored this, just as she ignored the Bakemon that tried to cut out in front of her. Without even thinking about it, Renamon slashed at the pest with her claws, simultaneously slicing open the creature as well as knocking it to one side.

She reached the boy and dropped down to her knees. The first thing she noticed was that Andrew was still alive, still breathing and she couldn't even begin to describe the feeling of relief that she felt about that, but that didn't mean that everything was okay. Andrew had gone down as if he had been knocked unconscious, but his eyes were still open.

_He's looking at me, _she thought at first, but it didn't take long to understand that this wasn't correct. Andrew was looking _through_ her at something that only he was seeing and every now and then he would mumble something very faint and impossible to understand. _His eyes are wrong. They're dull, glazed over. There's nothing in them._

LadyDevimon managed to clear away the Bakemom that had attempted to surround her, seizing her short window of opportunity she ran over towards Renamon and grabbed a hold on one of the fox's shoulders, getting her a brief tug.

"Come on! We need to keep moving!" she shouted as she pulled.

"But Andrew-"

"Grab him and let's go! We can't help him and keep fighting off these bastards at the same time!"

Renamon knew the woman was right, but she still didn't like the idea of moving him. She was scared that she might hurt him somehow if she did. The Bakemon, however, continued their relentless assault and that seemed to take the choice right out of her hands. Moving as quickly and as gently as she could manage, Renamon scooped the boy up into her arms and together with LadyDevimon, made a break for the open doors.

She wondered what would happen if the same thing that hit Andrew struck them as well, but it was far too late to make any sudden change in plans. The church was the only cover they had at hand and, like Andrew, Renamon could also feel like that was where they needed to be. Myotismon would be somewhere inside, laying low until his powers had returned to him.

The fox didn't so much run through the opening as she did shut her eyes and leap through it. Every muscle in her body tensed up as she waited for some blast that never came. Her feet came down on the cold stone flooring without incident and half a second later LadyDevimon was inside behind her, and the moment that she was, the woman spun around and slammed the doors closed. She franticly looked around for a few moments before reaching for one of the two tall candelabras standing at either side of the door. They were painted black and gothic in design. They also must have been rather heavy and made of some sort of metal or steel from their appearance, yet LadyDevimon snapped off the stand at the bottom and the candle holder at the top as if she were breaking dry wood. Now holding what was essentially a five foot black poll, the woman shoved it between the door handles.

"That should be enough to keep them from pulling them open and I think the door is strong enough to prevent them from breaking it down. At least for a little while. Those might be a problem," LadyDevimon said, motioning towards the large black windows that ran across the side walls, "But at least they'll act as a funnel forcing them to stay close together. It'll be easier to take out more at once, if nothing else."

Renamon grunted a response, but hadn't really been listening. The Bakemon could have been a million miles away right then for all she cared, her full attention was on the boy. He was still breathing and his eyes were still open and blank. Renamon briefly wondered if this was what she was like when Andrew had to carry her feverish body though the jungle. She wondered if he had been as scared as she was.

Despite its twisted décor, the inside of the church was build like any other; dual rows of wooden pews ran down the length of the room towards a slightly raised platform where a single alter stood. Behind this alter on the far back wall where many would have expected a cross or some similar religious symbol, an open eye had been painted onto the stone, its iris a crimson red color Andrew would have recognized immediately. Renamon didn't like it. It felt too much like an actually eye was staring them down; unfeeling and unblinking. Even LadyDevimon seemed to shrink away from its glance.

Still carrying Andrew in her arms, Renamon made her way over to the closest pew and carefully lay him down upon it. She didn't imagine that it would be too comfortable, but she wasn't about to put the boy down on the cold stone floor that felt like ice cubes under her bare feet. She envied LadyDevimon for having shoes in that moment.

Renamon dared a look back at the door. She had expected to hear the Bakemon trying to smash their way in by now, but so far everything had remained quiet, they hadn't even tried breaking in through any of the windows which were large enough for Renamon herself stand inside of. Did this mean that the group was surrounding the building, getting ready for some kind of attack, or was it the opposite? The way that the Bakemon had attacked; never seeming to really cut them off from one another, but doing nearly everything in their power to keep them apart, was that really just a coincidence? If whatever had happened to Andrew was another trap just waiting to be sprung on whoever was first inside the church, wasn't it possible that it was meant specifically for the boy?

If it had been LadyDevimon that had been hit, they could have gone on without her. Andrew would have protested, of course, but Renamon could have always forced him on if she had to, and she fully expected 'The Bitch' to do the same to her if she had been the one hit. Whatever the case could have been, as long as Andrew was still okay then there was still a chance, but with the boy down like this, without his power to fuel her own, Renamon didn't think they stood much of a chance. Something needed to be done, and fast; not just for the sake of time, but for Andrew.

LadyDevimon crossed over to the boy. She held out her right hand a few inches above Andrew's face and waved it back and forth. If the boy saw it, if he could see _anything_ for that matter, he gave no sign.

"What's wrong with him?" Renamon asked, forcing herself not to panic. "Is he hurt or dying or what? What do we do?"

"Our old friend isn't done playing with us yet," the woman responded. Renamon could actually hear how hard she was trying to keep the fury out of her voice. "It's an attack, and a powerful one at that. If Myotismon is pulling out this trick, than he must be more desperate than I thought. That's going to make the bastard a lot more dangerous."

"So what is it, then?"

"He calls it 'Mental Illusion'. I've heard him brag about it before, but never seen him actually use it. The good news is Andrew shouldn't be hurt."

"And the bad news?" Renamon asked, not really wanting the answer.

"Myotismon has trapped the boy inside of his own head and can freely manipulate his dreams at will. Right now Andrew is either living his greatest fantasies... or his biggest nightmares. Either way, Myotismon is trying to run out the clock. We might not have as much time as I hoped."

"To hell with Myotismon; how do we help Andrew?"

"We don't. You do," LadyDevimon retorted. "You're the only one that can reach him."

"What? Why me?"

The woman casted her gaze away from Renamon and towards the far wall as if she found something very interesting to look at over there all of a sudden and when she spoke, she sounded almost bitter. "Because you're the one he... because you're his Partner, aren't you?" she snapped at her.

That was when Andrew began to cry out, almost as if in answer to LadyDevimon. It wasn't exactly a scream, but rather a cry that emanated from deep within his throat. The boy's breathing began to speed up and his hands clenched into tight enough fists that he drew blood.

Renamon threw her hands around his shoulders, as if she expected him to start thrashing around at any moment.

"Help him," LadyDevimon cried. Renamon was surprised as well as a little frightened by the panic she heard in the woman's voice. "If you have any kind of bond at all then snap him out of it!"

Renamon had never once doubted her instincts. She had survived a good long time on her own by carefully listening to what they had to say and obeying without question. Sometimes the choices they told her to make were bizarre and outside what rational thought should have been, but never once did her choices steer her wrong. This was what she had in mind as she leaned in towards the boy. She pressed her forehead against his own, closed her eyes, and started to speak.

**O O O**

It was the worm that popped out of his Not-Father's empty eye socket that finally broke Andrew's paralysis and allowed him to run. Before that, he had been watching with stunned fear as his parents stood before him screaming at him for every sin he had ever committed or would commit as they began to decay. He watched as their skin turned a dull green while teeth fell out of their mouths and clumps of hair fell off their heads. Their skin pulled tight against bodies that were losing ten, twenty, thirty pounds per second. His parents were turning into corpuses right before his eyes and all Andrew could do was watch. That was when the worm crawled out of his Not-Father's skull and began to wiggle around. That was the final insult to his sanity.

Andrew twisted his body hard to the side and began to run. He didn't care where he was headed, just as long as he could get away. It was too much. It was all too much. He had to escape this nightmare. He had to find a way out.

From behind him he could hear the voices of his parents screaming at him, repeating all of the darkest things his young mind could make up. Every fear he had ever had, no matter how ridicules it seemed in daylight felt very true coming from their rotting mouths. There really was a monster in the closet. There really was a shark in every pool. You really can get sucked down the bathroom drain. There really is a Boogieman. There really are things beyond human imagination that wait in the darkness to feast upon the flesh of children. Nightmares really do come true.

Andrew ran away from it all, knowing perfectly well that they would catch up with him again and once they did they would not allow him to leave. He would spend the rest of his life here, tumbling forever in the mist of evil and insanity.

That was when he heard a new voice calling his name causing to boy to skid to a stop. It was very familiar. It was the voice of the yellow. The voice of the one who called him 'rookie', first as a joke at his expense, but then as a pet name. It was Renamon.

"Andrew," she called from somewhere far, far above. "Can you hear me? Andrew, you need to wake up."

"Renamon? Where are you? I can't see you!" he cried, on the brink of tears but far past caring about keeping up his image.

The boy looked around seeing nothing an empty park and the rotting remains of his family closing the distance he had put between them. Now they were telling him how they were going to eat him alive when they caught him; tear off his skin and rip open his muscles, break his bones and eat his organs, and he would be alive through it all. He would be alive and he would fell every bit of it.

"Renamon," he called again, growing ever more desperate. "Help me!"

"It's not real, Andrew. You need to wake up."

"How? I don't know how," he shouted back.

"Just close your eyes and follow my voice." Renamon answered, seeming to hear him somehow.

Andrew glanced over his shoulder. The monstrous forms that had once looked like his parents were closer than ever now. A few more seconds and they'd be right on top of him. "I can't, I- there isn't time!"

"Do it," he heard her order. "Man up and do it!"

Andrew didn't so much 'close' his eyes and he 'slammed them'. If he could have shut a door that hard it would have snapped in two. At first there was nothing but pure blackness. His brain was screaming at him to stop being stupid. He needed to run. This might just be another trick for all he knew. He had to open his eyes and he had to run.

He didn't.

He didn't because there was another voice from inside of him, this one much less panicked. It spoke to him in a cool, calm tone telling him that this was no trick. Not this time. This was Renamon speaking to him from wherever his body might be. She was still alive, and if they lied about that, then they could lie about anything else. If Renamon could have heard this voice, than she would have known exactly what it was. This was the voice of instinct.

"They can't hurt me," Andrew said. As he spoke, a faint glow began to pierce though the blackness. "They're not real." The glow grew bright and began to form a shape. "This is my head. These are my thoughts. They can't hurt me unless I let them. I won't let them! I won't lose! I'm not weak! I'm not useless! _I'm a DigiDestined!_" he screamed at the top of his lungs.

Andrew could clearly see Renamon's form inside of the light which now burned so bright that he had to squint to look at it. Her arms were out and her hands were reaching for them. He reached back. Their hands closed around one another and Renamon pulled. There was a second of weightlessness as Andrew felt himself being yanked off of his feet and then-

**O O O**

-the boy suddenly sat up with a huge gasp of air. Renamon just managed to pull back in time to keep from being head-butted.

Andrew blinked rapidly as he looked around the room he had awakened in through aching, dry eyes. The dull, lifelessness had left him and he appeared to be in full control of himself again.

He turned towards Renamon, her face full of concern, and the things that Andrew felt for her in that moment were beyond his ability to describe. He would never be able to repay her for the things she has done for him, he knew this, but if given the chance he would try. Oh god, he would try.

Without thinking about it, perhaps still acting on his own 'instinct' he threw his arms around the fox's neck and hugged her as tightly as he could. If it wasn't for her, he would have still been stuck inside his own personal hell facing a lifetime of tortures.

"Thank you," he whispered, feeling his eyes starting to tear up. "Thank you so much."

The boy felt Renamon's strong arms wrap themselves around him as well, and Andrew remembered thinking he wouldn't mind it one bit if she never let go.

"It wasn't just me," Renamon said as she allowed her arms to drop and gently removed herself from the boy's grasp. She wouldn't have said it out loud, but if time hadn't been so short she might have let the boy hold her for a long as he wanted. She didn't care how long that was. "You should really be thanking LadyDevimon, she was the one who was telling me what to do."

Andrew moved towards the other Digimon where she stood in the aisle between one row of pews and then the other. Her arms were crossed just below her chest as they often were and her eyes were looking off to one side as if she couldn't care less about what was going on. It was a good disguise, but one that didn't fool Andrew anymore.

He hugged her as well, and while he wasn't tall enough to give her the same embrace he gave to Renamon, he still did his best. LadyDevimon allowed one hand, what Andrew thought of as her 'good hand' and what LadyDevimon called her 'less deadly hand' to rest on the boy's shoulder. She didn't embrace him back, but at the same time she didn't push him away either, and feeling the smooth leather of her outfit against the side of his face, the coolness of her skin, and the sweet smell of her ever-present perfume, Andrew wondered one last time how things would have been if he had met this version of LadyDevimon first.

"Thank you, both of you," Andrew said as he stepped backed so he could look at both girls at the same time. "You two are... you're the best friends I've ever had."

"Don't get all touchy-feely on us now," LadyDevimon said, trying to sound indifferent despite the soft, honest smile on her face. "I don't think you'll like us that much when we have to face Myotismon. Not that he stands a chance, of course."

"She's right," Renamon added as she stepped into the aisle with them. "Together we're unstoppable."

**O O O**

Renamon then surprised them both by holding out her arm, palm down, in the space between the three of them. It took Andrew a second to realize what she was going. Chuckling a little, Andrew reach out and placed his hand on top of her own. Now the two were looking over at the woman, waiting for her to join in.

"Oh, you can't be serious," she said, looking from one to the other. When neither one commented LadyDevimon rolled her eyes and, with a heavy sigh, placed her 'good' and 'less deadly' hand on top of the other two. "Yes, yes. All for one and one for all, now if we're done here, can we please get back to saving the world? I want to get this over with already."

Andrew laughed again. They were now very close to Myotismon; one minute till midnight, some might have said, yet Andrew was still able to laugh. He took that as a good sign. Renamon might have been right; together, they were unstoppable.

It was Renamon who first noticed the way the red iris stuck out from the wall. The three of them had been searching the church for some time, trying to find a way to Myotismon. He was here, somewhere, even without the twisted world around them as one big clue; all three of them could feel his evil baking off of the walls. Renamon even commented once that she could smell it, but there had been no doors, no other rooms, no nothing. It was starting to look like there was nothing else to the church at all except for the one room in which they already stood. That was until Renamon investigated the eye painted on the wall.

The three of them had explored up and down the room, but none had dared venture too close to the eye. Even LadyDevimon put on a good show of finding any reason to avoid looking at it. Maybe it was Renamon's impatience that made her bite the bullet and walk up to the eye, though she quickly regretted having to move this close to it. The air around it was bad, somehow, like it had gone stale and each breath she took left her feeling queasy.

She had to almost get right up on top of it to see the way the iris just barely poked out, but once she had finally caught it, it was impossible to miss. She called the others over and asked if they thought she had found something important.

"Only one way to find out," Andrew said. "Give it a push."

The boy watched as Renamon took in a deep breath like she was steeling herself for anything that might happen, and pressed down.

The iris slid into the wall with an audible click that echoed off the stone. Less then a second later there came a low rumbling from behind them. The three turned around in time to see the aisle between the pews and just in front of the alter began to slide back, as it moved Andrew could see a staircase waiting just below it leading down into the basement.

_Although, I think in a church they're called an undercroft,_ she thought.

When the floor stopped moving and the echo ended, the three looked at one another. No one said a word, yet each knew what the other was thinking. Once they went down the steps, there would be no turning back, not until the job was done. Myotismon was down there, somewhere, and now it was time to see if all their confidence was rightfully placed or if everything they'd done up to this point really was in vein.

Each of them wanted to say something to the others, some kind of words of encouragement or thanks, but no one dared. It felt too much like last words for anyone to risk it. So instead, Renamon motioned towards the stairs to which Andrew and LadyDevimon nodded in agreement, and it was in that order they made their way down into the ground.

**O O O**

The passageway had slid shut once they had all made their way into the undercrofts, this didn't surprise any of them by this point; LadyDevimon least of all. She knew all of Myotismon's tricks by this point. They had made it this far, fine, but he wasn't going to let any of them leave here ever again. She wasn't worried about this, though. The secret door was only stone. She'd be able to break through that with her Black Wing attack in no time. Besides, if worse came to worst Andrew still had that chunk of Digimite. By this point the rock was a mess of spider web cracks and probably only be good for one more trip, but one more was all they would need. If Myotismon thought he was going to slip out of this one as he did back in his castle, then the man was fooling himself. This was going to be the end of it all, she would see to that personally; a little payback for the sucker-punch he had given to her, then she would take out interest on his ass for all of the things she did against Andrew while working with him, for breaking her heart, for making her think that she understood how the world worked.

She had always put herself above the rest of the world. She lived her life so completely sure that she was superior to everyone else around her, that she was somehow better then them; smarter. She had been blind.

Myotismon had been the one that had found her and taken her under his wing back when she was only a Rookie, herself. He said that he had seen great potential inside of her and that he could nurture and expand her power to levels beyond her imagination. He said these things to her, and she believed them. What the man really saw was anger, fear, confusion; all the things he could use to manipulate her into the obedient little lapdog she turned out to be.

She had committed horrific acts in the name of her 'Dark Lord'; taking what she was told to take, recruiting those she was told to recruit, and killing those that resisted. She had done these things and even began to find a sick pleasure in them. After all, she was better then them. All other Digimon were little more than ants when compared to her, and if she was so much better, then there was no reason to feel bad. She was above reproach.

LadyDevimon shivered in the dim light cast by the blue fire Renamon had lit from her hand to guide them down the long, narrow hall whose dirt walls were coated with bones of every size and shape. No one had seen her, but if they had, she would have lied and said it was the creepy scenery that sent the chill up her spine. It was easier then saying she was remembering every wicked act she had ever done. She knew that some humans believed in things like Heaven and Hell, but she had no idea if such places existed for Digimon.

It was in her best interest to hope they didn't.

The boy, Andrew, had told her that everyone deserved a second chance. Did that really apply to people like her? She didn't think she could ever really make up for some of the things that she had done, but this was a good first step, she thought. After this... well, she would figure that out when the time came. Besides, if he could forgive her after all the things she's done to him, maybe there was still hope left and, who knew, maybe one day she would be able to properly thank him for helping her, for showing her that hadn't really sold her soul.

After several minutes of walking though the bone littered passages of the undercroft, they were finally closing in on the light at the end of the tunnel, literally. What started as a dim orange glow much like the one they had seen coming from inside the church, continued to grow as they closed in.

_This is it,_ LadyDevimon thought. _We finally get to face down the son-of-a-bitch. Wonder if he'll be surprised to see me._

The light had led them into a large, rectangular room. The walls here were made of stone rather then packed dirt. Torches burned hung from the walls, casting an orange glow over everything, and as far as she could tell, was completely empty except for two things: the first was a portal much like the ones that could be created from Digimite, except this one had a red glow that make the back of LadyDevimon's eyes hurt.

_That must lead to his domain; the emptiness between worlds he hid himself in for so long. How strong is he if he's able to freely open these gates?_

Any further thoughts about glowing red portal or the power of the creature that could not only create such a thing, but also maintain it were soon forgotten when LadyDevimon gazed upon the second thing in the room: Dracmon.

The imp sat casually on a large stone beside the threshold. He held a piece of fruit in one hand and was using his claws to peel away the skin in long strips.

"About damn time you got here," he said, speaking as if they were all old friends. "I was starting to think you were going to be too late. I guess it doesn't really make a difference anyway seeing as how you're all going to die in the next few minutes. I was just hoping I'd get to see it happen, is all."

"There's only one dead man in this room and I'm looking at him," LadyDevimon growled.

"Oh, so that is you, LadyDevimon?" Dracmon sarcastically asked. "I heard you survived and joined up with the kid. I always knew you were all bark, no bite."

The imp held out the piece of fruit he was peeling.

"You hungry, sweet lips? Should I carve you a slice or just chuck it into your face like you prefer?"

Dracmon threw his head back and laughed at his own wit as LadyDevimon felt her cheeks burn with fury. She couldn't wait to get her hands on the little freak and start peeling _his_ skin off.

"He betrayed LadyDevimon," she heard Andrew say. "He'll do the exact same to you."

"Oh, I'm completely sure he will," Dracmon agreed.

"Then why are you helping him?" Andrew asked, sounding taken back by the imp's indifference.

Dracmon looked up at the boy and flashed him an unsettling smile that showed far too many teeth. "Because it's funny."

Andrew looked at the imp with complete disbelief. "You're completely insane," the boy whispered.

Dracmon laughed at this too, as he stood up from the rock and tossed the piece of fruit over his shoulder. "Now," he said with a roll of his neck. "It's been fun chatting with you all, but our Dark Lord is starting to get annoyed with your presence, and since you three keep insisting on living I'm afraid something's going to have to be done to remedy this situation."

"I'd like you see you try," Renamon balked.

"Not me," Dracmon corrected. "Her."

Stepping to one side, Dracmon snapped his fingers and a moment later a small pink and purple bird walked out of the gate. Biyomon stood before them once more, only this time she was sporting a new accessory; a Dark Ring around her neck. Her eyes burned with red fire and she stood completely motionless before them, mindlessly awaiting her next order.

_This is what he does,_ LadyDevimon thought. _He doesn't care who he throws away, just as long he gets what he wants. I can't believe I followed that monster._

"Who wants to see a magic trick?" Dracmon asked as he raised his hand once more. "Abra kadabra."

With one more snap of his fingers, Dracmon had given his next order. Biyomon's body suddenly went stiff as a board as she started to screech; a sound of such unimaginable agony as her body was enveloped in white light that the boy jerked back from it and the fox lowered her ears against her head. Even LadyDevimon had to flinch away from the sound.

Digivolving was supposed to be a beautiful, almost religious experience. It was a sign that you had grown so strong that your old body could no longer contain it. You took on a new body, a new name, and new voice. Everything changed except for your consciousness. You might look different, but you're still you. It was an event that every Digimon strived to achieve, and when done naturally it was almost ecstasy.

There was nothing natural about what was happening to Biyomon, nothing beautiful about it either. She was screaming from a pain that LadyDevimon could not even begin to comprehend. She thought she could hear the sounds of the bird's bones breaking and resetting and it made her feel sick to her stomach. This was what a forced evolution looked like and as much as she had always hated the annoying little twerp, she would have never wished this kind of fate upon her.

At last the screaming faded, the horrific sounds stopped, and the light blinked out. It was no longer tiny, annoying Biyomon that stood before them, but rather someone much bigger, more dangerous, and completely under the imp's control: Garudamon, towering over them with empty, soulless eyes.

_I can't believe I followed that man,_ LadyDevimon's inner voice mused one more time. _This is what he does._

**To be continued.**


	28. Chapter 27

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

Garudamon was nothing like small, tittering, pain-in-the-ass that Biyomon had once been. In fact, the only thing similar between that creature and the thing that looming before them now was the Dark Ring that hung like a collar around her neck. LadyDevimon had often wondered why her lord had allowed something so tiny and weak to become a part of his army. She was worth next to nothing in a real fight, never shut up, and always seemed to feel the need to stick her nose into places where it didn't belong. At best, maybe the bird was at least halfway decent at scouting. Until now LadyDevimon had always assumed that the bird had been kept as nothing more than a pet, but now that she had been given her first glance at Biyomon's Ultimate form, she thought she understood exactly why Myotismon had kept the thing around.

Her body was humanoid in shape, but looked like that of a giant red eagle. Her wings had moved to her back; their original position now being taken up by a pair of muscular arms. Garudamon's new legs appeared to be equally as powerful and the long, thick talons at the ends of her toes looked strong enough to carve stone. She was a deadly powerhouse of both speed and strength. The only good news was that; down here, even in this large crypt, Garudamon's wings would be pretty useless. Of course the down side of _that_ was LadyDevimon's were equally so.

As much as she didn't like the idea, she was going to have to work together with the mutt on this one. If they wanted any chance of winning they would need to keep the heat on the eagle, attacking her from both sides before she could gain any kind of balance. They couldn't get too close or they'd run the risk of getting painfully familiar with the eagle's claws. At the same time they would need to be careful how they moved, even in a room this size she knew it could become far too easy to find herself suddenly stuck in a corner, and if that happened... well, LadyDevimon would just have to hope that didn't happen.

Instinctively, Renamon had taken a step forward, putting herself between their attackers and Andrew. LadyDevimon now did the same, understanding that the kid was going to be another concern. He wouldn't be able to directly fight, but there wasn't any place for the boy to go to get out of the way, either. There was nothing in this room that he could use for cover and sending him back down the hall would be suicide if Garudamon got passed them and went after Andrew.

_All the more reason to get this done quickly,_ she thought.

The final problem was going to be Dracmon; was he going to fight as well? She didn't think so. The imp was a liar and trickster who took great pride in causing misery among those around him. He loved the danger that came with his twisted pranks and she had never seen him shrink away from a battle before, but at the same time he was a lot like Myotismon in the way that he didn't like to directly get his hands dirty. If her hunch was correct, Dracmon would most likely hang back during the fight, confident that Garudamon would be more then enough to take the three down.

_Once we take down this abomination he might try something stupid, though, _she warned herself before she could become too complacent.

LadyDevimon almost hoped that he did attack. She would take great pleasure in getting to wipe that smug smile right off of his face. It was something she had secretly wanted to do ever since the first time she'd met the dirty little cretin.

The woman took in a deep breath though her nose, her senses filling with the smells of dirt and earth. Slowly, she let the air back out, steeling herself for what was to come. She didn't like the idea of fighting in such an enclosed space. If there was any sort of upside it was that she was looking forward to showing the boy how well she could fight. Just because she couldn't have him, didn't mean she couldn't impress him a little, maybe even gain the boy's respect. It might not be as good as his affection, but it was certainly the next best thing.

"You know what to do, slave," Dracmon said, the smugness in his voice making LadyDevimon want to rip him limb from limb all the more. "Sic 'em!"

With her order's given, Garudamon crouched down and used her powerful legs to propel herself across the room with her talons outstretched and war cry emanating from deep inside her throat, its sound amplified off the stone walls surrounding them.

Moving with a grace and speed that even LadyDevimon would admit to being impressed with, Renamon spun around and grabbed a hold of the boy. With Andrew firmly secure in her grasp the two dove to left at the same moment LadyDevimon did the same to the right. Less then a heartbeat later Garudamon's massive form was cutting through the air where they had once stood. LadyDevimon could actually feel the wind the eagle's speed had generated rush by her skin and blow her hair. She was right; Garudamon was fast as well as strong. If only that had had more room to move around in; a place to fallback to if need. In here the best they could do was keep moving about in a circle and hope they didn't lose their footing on any of the rocks or bones that poked up from the ground.

From across the room LadyDevimon heard Renamon say something to the boy that sounded like 'stay out of the way'. If so, then she doubted he needed to be told that by this point. Andrew said something back; 'be careful', she thought.

By this time Garudamon had recovered from her miss and had gotten back to her feet. LadyDevimon could feel the bird's eyes quickly shoot from Renamon to her, as if trying to judge which one to attack first. Using her Black Wing attack to turn her enlarged left hand into one giant spike, she decided to make the decision for her.

She thrust forward, meaning to impale the bird right though the heart and ending this battle on her first strike. However, Garudamon saw this coming and stepped back, easily avoiding the piercing blow. Trying to recover from her miss, LadyDevimon swung her bladed hand towards the beast, hoping to slice it across the bird's chest before she got the chance to move again.

On the other side of the crypt, she heard Andrew say something to the mutt and motion to his pocket. She couldn't make out the exact words this time, but from his tone she thought it sounded like some form of question or another. Whatever it was, Renamon was shaking her head.

LadyDevimon had allowed her attention to wander for only a second, but that was all the time Garudamon needed. LadyDevimon had hoped that the bird wouldn't have the time to evade another attack so quickly after the first, yet somehow she did. With one more step backwards, the spike did little more then whiff the air in front of her, throwing LadyDevimon off her balance. Using this, Garudamon reached out and grabbed hold of the dagger that was once her left arm. She then proceeded to throw the woman across the room like a ragdoll where she slammed against one of the stone walls hard enough to shake years of dust off of it before falling to the ground next to Andrew and Renamon.

"Are you okay?" the boy asked as she pulled herself to her feet. Her head was pounding now and the blow had knocked the wind out of her, but otherwise she thought she was fine.

"I'll live," she said before turning her attraction to the mutt. "If you're not too busy, would you mind helping me with this, sweetie? That's not too much trouble, now is it?"

Renamon didn't say anything, didn't acknowledge her in any way, not that LadyDevimon really expected her to. She didn't like the fox and never would, but Andrew did, and if Andrew did then that meant that she couldn't have been all bad. Even though this wasn't the time to be cracking jokes at Renamon's expense, it was the only way she found she could talk to the girl. Maybe it was a defense mechanism of some kind, or maybe she just enjoyed getting under Renamon's skin, but whatever the case may be it was enough to get her moving.

The fox raced towards Garudamon throwing a blast from her Diamond Storm as she went. Garudamon held up her arms and used to them block the shards. If any damage was done, it was superficial. The beast swung one of its claws, but Renamon easily evaded by jumping to one side. She hit the ground, rolled, and was up again, this time circling behind the beast and attacking again. Her shards cut through the long, blond hair that flowed down down Garudamon's head and stabbed into the back of her neck and down her spine, actually causing some damage this time around.

Garudamon gave a brief cry of pain which boomed off the walls (making LadyDevimon's headache worse for a moment) before kicking back with one of her huge feet. The blow connected right with Renamon's chest, knocking her backwards. She had the wind kicked out of her, but was lucky enough to avoid the razor-like talons.

Now LadyDevimon was up and moving again this time throwing a ranged attack of her own. Using the power she called 'Evil Wing' she released creatures made entirely of dark energy from her body that took on the shape of bats as they flew towards her opponent. Garudamon raised her arms in an attempt to block the projectiles in the exact same way she had blocked Renamon's, but there was something that the bird either didn't know or was too stupid when under the Dark Ring's power to understand: Renamon was only a Rookie. She might have been a strong one, but there was still only so much power she could put behind her attacks. LadyDevimon, however, as an Ultimate; on the same level as the beast and this meant she was able to strike with a lot more... 'oomph'.

The attack didn't do anywhere near the amount of damage that it could of, she had personally seen it burn Digimon alive with one shot, but it was enough to knock the eagle off of her feet. Not wanting to miss another opportunity for a kill shot, the woman leapt upwards into the air, using a hard flap of her wings to lift her higher then her legs by themselves could take her. At the peak of her jump LadyDevimon brought back the spike on her left hand dove down at Garudamon thrusting the point forward, meaning to impale the beast right through the chest, but at the last moment Garudamon rolled away, making it far too late for LadyDevimon to recover from her second failed attack.

She had thrown her full weight behind that thrust, and when it collided with the bare floor, her spike dug itself deep into the earth that sent up a blinding cloud of earth and soil.

Pulling her arm, she was horrified to find that it had become lodged into the ground. The dirt had caved in around her arm, holding it with a vice-like grip and keeping her anchored down.

Garudamon was up again and coming after her, hands out and claws extended; ready to slice her open the second she was within range. LadyDevimon pulled frantically upwards, planting her feet as hard as she could and using her right arm to tug on the left. She felt the earth's grip loosening, but it wouldn't give in time. Garudamon would be on top of her by then, using her claws to slice into her perfect skin.

_Not like this,_ her mind franticly cried. _It can't end like this!_

It wasn't her own death she was afraid of; it was the idea of dying without being allowed to use that second chance Andrew had given to her. She understood that one day she would have to pay for all of the destruction she had caused and that price was likely to be in her own blood, but it couldn't be this soon. She couldn't die before she had the opportunity to make at least one single act of retribution. She couldn't!

Pulling harder against her own stuck arm, LadyDevimon tried to not let panic overtake her mind. Not because it was a great way to fuck thing up, but because such things should have been below her. She was stronger than that, damn it! She didn't give in to fear or hysteria. She remained calm and cool under all circumstances. However, she suddenly found it hard to keep her head when she was literally so close to losing it.

Suddenly she saw a flash of color out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head just as Renamon leap towards Garudamon from out of what seemed like nowhere. Her brows were down and her lips were pulled back to reveal her sharp, white teeth. She was leaping towards the eagle much in the same style LadyDevimon had, only she was coming at her from the side, rather then the top.

Renamon's arm was cocked back and her hand was balled up into a tight fist from which blue fire burned. LadyDevimon might have saw all of this, but Garudamon didn't. Not until it was too late.

Renamon swung, the blow connecting square with Garudamon's jaw, or maybe the right word would be 'beak'. Blood and spit shot from the bird's mouth, some of it striking LadyDevimon in the face, as Garudamon was knocked aside. She spun around once in what was almost a dance-like manner. She tried to regain her balance, nearly had it, and then her foot connected with a large rock poking up from the ground and was sent over the tipping point, sprawling to the floor.

"There. I helped," Renamon said as she grabbed on to LadyDevimon's arm, her note not as unkind as the woman had expected. Together they were able to pull it free from the earth.

The woman was stunned beyond words. She never once believed that Renamon would ever do anything for her, not after everything she had done to her and to Andrew. Both women made no a secret of disliked the other; and the trading of insults had almost become a daily tradition among them. LadyDevimon would have never imagined, not even in her wildest dreams, that this fox would have ever saved her life.

"I... thank you," she said, her voice sounding just as stunned as she felt. She was surprised even further when the fox smiled at her; the first real, un-sarcastic smile she had ever offered to the woman.

"Don't mention it. Ever. To anyone."

"What the hell are you doing?" This was Dracmon. He was screaming like a bratty child who saw he was losing a game. "Get up you worthless beast! Kill them! I order you to _fucking_ kill them!"

Obey her orders, fighting mindlessly through whatever pain she might have been feeling, Garudamon was back on her feet and coming after them. LadyDevimon could have felt bad for the bird and would have, too if she hadn't known Biyomon as well as she did. The Dark Ring was no doubt put around her against her will, but she also fully believed that if the bird had been able to transform herself into Garudamon of her own, than she'd be standing here attacking them anyway. Biyomon might have been a cute and innocent looking creature, but when she was born someone had forgotten to give her a soul. There was a reason Myotismon recruited her, after all.

Renamon and LadyDevimon both looked at one another, a silent conversation passing between them. When you came to know someone and trust someone, as these two had (even if it was against their wishes) it was possible to talk to that person without ever opening your mouth. Renamon and LadyDevimon both knew what the other was thinking. They had a plan, not a great one, but a plan none the less.

They looked over their shoulders and watched Garudamon's charge, screaming that mindless war cry of hers, and when she was right on top of them, both girls jumped backwards, allowing the eagle to land in-between them. Before Garudamon could move again, before she could even take a second to understand that she had missed, both girls started to attack: LadyDevimon with a constant swarm from her Dark Wing and Renamon with blast after blast of her Diamond Strom.

The projectiles hit Garudamon simultaneously from both sides, causing her to cry out in pain. Unable to escape the barrage, the eagle bunkered down by lowering its head, raising its arms out to either side, and holding out its wings to absorb most of the attack. It was like trying to chip away at a wall with a screwdriver, but it was working. Even in her enslaved state, Garudamon had enough intelligence to understand that if she tried to run, she would be opening herself up for a fatal blow. The best she could do was to try and wait them out on the hope one of the girls ran out of power. LadyDevimon didn't know who would break first, but she was interested to see.

"Stop that you coward," Dracmon was screaming. The imp probably hadn't even toyed with the idea of failure before, but now he was seeing everything running through his fingers and he had knew full well what the Dark Lord does to those who fail him. "Your Wing Blade, you fool! Use your Wing Blade!"

Garudamon actually seemed to shrink into herself, her bulky body closing into a shape smaller than the woman would have imagined it could go, before the eagle suddenly stood upwards in one swift jerking motion; arms and wings exploding outwards as she did so.

A ball of flames burst from her body and flew outwards in every direction. The girls just barely managed to; quite literally, throw themselves out of the line of fire. Even Andrew threw himself to the ground to avoid some of the further reaching licks of flames.

Garudamon readied herself to continue her assault when Dracmon called out to her, sounding desperate after seeing how close he came to losing. "Forget about them! The boy! He's the only one that matters! Kill him!"

The massive eagle turned to face Andrew where he was laying on the floor; flat on his stomach with his hands over his head. Andrew, Renamon, and LadyDevimon each watched helplessly as the creature that had once been a been a tiny, annoying, but mostly harmless pink and purple bird took in a deep breath, spread her wings, and readied herself for another blast of what Dracmon had called Wing Blade.

The boy was stumbling to his feet, trying to move out of the way, but it was already too late. With a hard flap of her wings, Garudamon released a wall of fire that took on the shape of a bird diving towards its prey.

LadyDevimon saw this and knew the boy would never get out of the way in time. Even if Andrew had been on his feet and expecting the attack the fire was simply moving too fast and was too wide. Andrew was going to be hit with a blow that even the best of Digimon would struggle to survive.

She was up and moving before she was even aware of what she was going to do. Renamon was too far away, the boy was too slow. She was the only one who could help. She had to help. She owed the boy that much.

Racing forward, using her wings to propel her faster and harder then she had ever dared before; LadyDevimon threw herself in front of the child and snatched him mid-sprint into her arms. He looked up at her with a mixture of fear and confusion that broke her heart. If there had been time to carry him out of the way, then she would have. If there had been time to simply _push _him out of the way than she would have done that too, but LadyDevimon managed to beat the attack headed towards Andrew by mere seconds, and she had no sooner forced the boy down in the tight ball, throwing her arms around him and wrapping him inside of the embrace of her wings when she was struck.

LadyDevimon screamed as the fire drove itself into her back and stabbed into her skin like millions of knives. The pain was immediate and intense, causing tears to stream down her cheeks. The black leather of her outfit began to boil and melt down her skin. Her luscious snow white hair began to char and burn. She was in more pain then she could have ever thought possible, but she didn't let go. Every instinct in her cowardly mind told her to move, to get away. She had to leave the boy behind and save her own life.

She wouldn't.

Andrew had stood up for her when no one else would. He defended her. He trusted her. He was the first person in her entire life that looked at her and didn't want her for simply her power or her appearance. He saw the person that she was, or rather; the person that she _could be,_ and somehow, he liked her for it.

He had called her his friend. One of the best he had ever had, and he had been telling the truth.

She wouldn't leave him. Despite the horrific, mind-numbing pain she would. Not. Leave him.

The attacked ended. She didn't know how long or short the event had lasted. It felt like a heartbeat. It felt like a lifetime. Either way, the pressure and burning eventually came to an end, but the pain still lingered.

Slowly, delicately, each action causing her tremendous amounts of agony, LadyDevimon unwrapped herself from around the boy. She tried to stand, but the world had gone blurry and her head felt impossibly light. She staggered and fell over on her side, gasping for air and trying to fight through the ache that each breath caused. She wanted to know how badly she had been wounded, but at the same time; she didn't. Ignorance was bliss, after all.

She heard Andrew scream her name, but his voice seemed to be coming from another world. She felt herself starting to drift off, her mind trying to put her to sleep so it could forget about the burning, but she fought through it. This wasn't the time.

"Oh no. Oh god, no," he was saying, almost chanting, as he dropped down next to her. Andrew tried to lift her up, but the moment his hands touched her charred back, LadyDevimon took in a sharp breath through her teeth, and Andrew let her go. "I-it's okay. You're okay. It's not bad," his voice said.

The look on his face told her quite the opposite.

From behind her, LadyDevimon heard Dracmon cry out in triumph. He must have been just as eager to hurt her and she had been to hurt him.

"Got you, you cold hearted bitch," he was cheering. "Finish them, slave! Burn them alive! Don't even leave ashes!" Dracmon began to chuckle again.

_He really is crazy,_ LadyDevimon thought through her dreary, fog-coated mind.

Renamon, who until now had been just as absorbed by LadyDevimon's act as Dracmon and Andrew himself had been, snapped herself out of her trance and rushed after Garudamon, trying to distract the bird from attacking again. This time, though, Garudamon saw the blowing coming, and rather then trying to dodge, Garudamon reached out and seized Renamon by the throat and lifted her up off the ground.

LadyDevimon, who though a tremendous amount of effort on her part, managed to her turn herself over to her other side, watched as Garudamon pulled back her other hand and pointed each claw on it towards the fox. By the look on the fox's face, it appeared that Garudamon was really putting the pressure onto her throat, but wasn't interested in simply choking her or snapping her neck. No, Garudamon was planning on carving her open with her claws.

Andrew started to get up. LadyDevimon didn't know what the boy thought he was going to do, but she knew that whatever it was it would only get him killed. She reached out and grabbed a hold of the kid's ankle. Her grip wasn't strong, but he stopped none the less. He turned his head back to look at her, his face silently asking what she thought she was doing.

She didn't respond to this. If she did, he might try to stop her or worse; it would waste what precious few seconds they had left.

Raising her other hand, her 'deadly hand', into the air and pointing it at Garudamon, LadyDevimon summoned every bit of dark energy in her body and readied a new attack.

She had only used this once before and it was against a Mega; a Digimon that was stronger than even she was. It was effective, killing the beast in one hit, but it had drained her significantly and left her feeling weak for days after, and that had been when she was still in perfect shape. Right now being as beat up as she was... now she didn't even know if she had enough power left to use it.

_Have to try,_ she thought._ For Andrew. Have to try._

She felt the energy gathering into her arm, and that was good. She felt it reach its full power, and that was better. She pushed the air out of her lungs at the same instant she fired a beam of black light from her palm. It streaked across the room like a bullet and struck into Garudamon back. There was a small bit of prideful victory in hitting the beast almost in the exact same spot LadyDevimon had been hit.

The result was as fast as it was horrible. Garudamon immediately dropped Renamon to the ground (who fell to her knees with a huge gasp of much-needed air). Garudamon gave out another one of her eagle-like squawks and she threw her hands up to her head. Screeching, she began to blindly stumble around the room; spinning and twisting. She did this dance for several seconds before starting to claw at herself; first at her face and then at her arms and chest. Each time she cut herself deeper and harder. Blood gushed from her self-inflicted wounds and ran down her fingers in think, goopy streams as she acted like she was trying to rip something out from inside of her body, which was exactly what she _was _trying to do.

The attack was called 'Poison'. It was a simple name, but one that perfectly described what was happening. LadyDevimon's dark energy was inside of the beast, turning Garudamon's own power against her. Spreading like cancer, it ripped through her body, tearing her up from the inside, and the more powerful the opponent, the more horrific the damage. It was unstoppable, but it also took all of her strength to use. Missing the hit meant leaving herself completely at the mercy of her opponent.

Garudamon finally stooped her insane dance of self-mutilation. She wobbled on her feet, tried for one more staggering step, and then fell over hitting the ground with a loud thud. Her clawed talons clawed weakly at the soil as she let out a pitiful squawk before both her body and breath fell still, disappearing in a bath of white light.

_I wonder what dying feels like,_ LadyDevimon wondered, too tired to feel any fear from the morbid question.

"Andrew," she said; her voice weak and her throat burning just as badly as her back was. "Are you hurt?"

The boy, who had been watching the events unfold before him with pure horror, managed to tear his eyes away from there the body of Garudamon had fallen (and was now nothing more left behind than stained dirt) and looked at LadyDevimon. For a moment, he just stared at her like he didn't understand what she had said. LadyDevimon felt a deep twinge of guilt for having to put him through that. If there had been another way to end this, she would have done it.

_Even when I'm trying to help, I still hurt. _

"I-I'm fine," Andrew answered, some color coming back into his pale face.

"Good," she breathed, proud of the kid for putting a brave front. Swallowing hard past the painful lump in her throat, LadyDevimon pressed on. "Andrew... thank you for… for everything. I... I wish I could have done more to repay you."

"Don't talk like that," Andrew said, his young body starting to tremble. "Don't! You're fine. It's nothing. You're going to be fine."

LadyDevimon smiled and slowly shook her head. She wished that was true, but she was empty. Every bit of energy she might have been able to use to heal herself was gone now. She was holding herself together by threads now and even they felt close to snapping. She wished that this adventure never had to end; that she could spend the rest of her life traveling alongside of Andrew; righting wrongs and saving lives. Hell, she didn't even mind if the mutt came along, she wasn't so bad either. However, all things had to come to an end. It was her time. She had done a lot of terrible things in her long life, things she would never be able to really atone for.

_But I did this right,_ she thought. _If nothing else, I did this._

She reached up and touched the boy's cheek. She needed to feel his skin one last time. Everything already started to go white and she could feel herself fading away. She didn't fight it this time. In a minute she would close her eyes and allow herself to go. As strange as it sounded, she was actually at peace. If there were afterlives for Digimon, she had no doubt that she was heading towards the bad one, but she could take solace in the idea that her last act had been a noble one and done for someone she cared for, someone she might have even learned to love.

"You were great, kid," she croaked, sounding halfway gone even to her own ears. "When you're kicking Myotismon's ass, give him one for me, will ya? There's a good boy."

She heard Andrew cry out to her; telling her not to go, begging her to come back. She didn't listen; such luxuries were beyond her grasp now. Instead she drifted off into sweet nothingness.

Her very last thought was the memory of Andrew in the church; his arms around her and the side his face pressing just under her chest. She had only put a hand on his shoulder, but only because she didn't know any other way to express the joy and warmth that his embrace gave to her. If she knew how to give him more; more comfort, more strength, more affection that did not come from something sexual, then she gladly and willingly would have. Instead, she did the best that she could and had hoped that Andrew would see the deeper meanings lying behind.

It was with these feelings of joy, and warmth, and acceptance, and love that LadyDevimon slipped away from this world.

She was at peace.

**O O O **

Andrew had cried out to her, but she didn't open her eyes. He told her that she couldn't go, that they still needed her help, but it did no good. All he could do is sit and watch as her body faded into the pillar of white light he had grown to hate so much over his days here and when it faded, she was gone.

LadyDevimon was gone.

Andrew felt numb; not on the outside like when you've been out in the cold too long or when you've fallen asleep on your arm or something. No, this numbness came from the inside and worked its way out feeling like it radiated from his very core.

He wanted to scream, but didn't.

He wanted to cry, but didn't.

He wanted to feel _something_, but _didn't_.

The boy just felt empty and drained; completely devoid of all emotions. He had never felt this completely used up before. He had heard that sometimes people simply when into shock after experiencing something their minds couldn't handle. He wondered if this was it, if his mind had just had enough and gone away, packing up his emotions and feelings before stepping out.

'_Isn't it funny how everyone you love ends up leaving you?' _The voice of his Not-Father mused inside of his head. He didn't even have the energy to tell the voice to shut up.

"Andrew..." Renamon's voice, so soft and loving, said from somewhere close by. The boy tried to think of her; telling himself that she was still here, that Renamon was still alive and he should take something from that.

It was hard, but the boy drew some strength back. While it didn't clear away the emptiness completely, at least now he had some feeling again.

Some.

Andrew opened his mouth, maybe to say that he was alright, which was a lie, or to say that there was nothing they could have done, which was a bigger lie. If Andrew had been faster he might have gotten out of the way in time and then LadyDevimon would still be around.

Before he could say anything or even dive deeper into the bottomless pool that was his self-pity, they both heard the sounds of feet running across the dirt floor. Dracmon, who had been slowly inching his way towards the open portal ever since Garudamon died (he had also been far too entranced by the eagle's death-dance to move until then) finally broke out into a sprint. Facing Myotismon would be terrible after the failure he had just endured, but the idea of having to face these two suddenly seemed much worse.

He was nearly at the portal when Renamon slammed into him, knocking is small frame to the ground. Then, just like Garudamon had done to her, Renamon wrapped a hand around Dracmon's throat and lifted him up into the air. He tried to slash and kick at her at first, but one squeeze of her hand and one shake hard enough to rattle his teeth caused him to stop.

"What do you want to do with him?" Renamon asked, sounding like she was barely able to still her hand with the imp in her grasp.

Andrew thought about it for a moment. "We should just kill him," he heard himself say as he pushed himself up from the dirt floor, his voice sounding alien and cold to his own ears. "Someone like him doesn't deserve to live."

"Wait, no," Dracmon began to plead. "I-I'm sorry! I am! Please let me go! I surrender!"

"It's a little too late for 'sorry'," Renamon said.

Dracmon just continued to blubber. "Please! Please let me go! He made me do it! I didn't want to! Myotismon! He's stronger than me! I was afraid! Just let me go and you'll never see me again! I promise! I swear upon my life!"

Renamon looked at the boy, silently asking him what to do. Andrew wanted to scream at her, tell her to make the damn choice herself. He was sick of having to play this role, sick of having to make the moral calls. He was a kid, damn it! He was a stupid little kid! What did he know about right and wrong?

"Let him go," Andrew said, feeling sick to his stomach. As much as he wanted to punish Dracmon for this, for all of this... he couldn't. Andrew didn't know if that made him weak or just, but he didn't care.

For a moment, Andrew thought Renamon was going to kill him anyway, and in a sick way, he almost wished she would. However, she slowly unclenched her fingers and allowed the imp to drop. He picked himself up and started to make his way towards the hall, back the way they had come from when their duo had still been a trio. He kept thanking them in his cowardly voice made Andrew want to wretch. Still, as much as he hated himself to letting him go, Dracmon had surrendered, and one thing Andrew could not bring himself to do, despite all of the hate and anger that he felt, was kill an opponent who had surrendered. Otherwise, what made him any better than Myotismon?

"Thank you," he was saying. "Oh thank you! Thank you so much! Thank you, thank you, thank you. Thank-"

Dracmon suddenly broke out into a mad sprint at Andrew, arms out, claws pointed, and the eyes in his palms blazing with madness and fury as the imp made one last suicide run at the boy while screaming at the top of his lungs.

Andrew stumbled backwards, but the reflex was unneeded. Renamon, who didn't trust the imp at all (she had sensed something wrong with him and had almost killed him despite Andrew's orders) had been ready for some sort of betrayal, but even she didn't except one so desperately pathetic.

She threw a blast from her Diamond Strom at the imp, each shard slicing into its intended target, the shards biting into his leg and traveling up his small frame to impale the side of his skull. Dracmon's cries of anger became screams of agony as he fell, bursting into the light and vanishing before he ever hit the ground.

They were now alone. The last of Myotismon's minions destroyed, leaving only the man himself.

Renamon made her way over the boy and dropped to one knee before him. For several seconds they did nothing but look at each other.

"She wasn't really bad," he sighed. "She was confused and manipulated, but not bad. Not really."

"I know. What about you, are you going to be okay?" she asked, putting a hand on his shoulder. Her tone very soft and comforting. He was grateful for that.

"No," Andrew said. "I'm not." It was true. He had lost a friend, one of the only two he had ever had. He didn't get to know her for very long, but he still cared about her very much. He had grown close to LadyDevimon in a way that he once did not think was possible for him any longer. The sorrow that he felt from her loss bit into him deep enough to hurt his heart and filled him with a dull rage he could not seem to shake. "But I know who I can take it out on," Andrew finished.

Myotismon had gone too far, taken too much, allowed too much blood to spill in the name of his power-hungry pursuit.

_No more,_ Andrew thought. _It stops now. Not one more person dies because of this man. Not one more._

Renamon and Andrew had started this journey together and now, one way or another, that was how they would end it.

**To be continued.**


	29. Chapter 28

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

The portal hung in the air before them giving off a strong red glow that made Renamon's eyes water. When she walked around behind the portal, interested in what this thing might look like from the back, she could see nothing but Andrew standing on the other side, but the gateway did not slowly start to fade like a ghost. One second it was there, and then move a couple of inches and there was nothing. If it weren't for the harsh red glow, the heat, and the faint crackling sound it gave off, Renamon might have believed that the thing had disappeared on her.

A part of her wanted to reach out to try and touch it, but she refused to even entertain the idea. The portal looked dangerous; anything that was capable of ripping a hole in the very fabric of reality had to be. They were risking a lot simply by stepping through it 'correctly', but the idea of trying to touch this thing from any other angle seemed very similar to grabbing hold of a live wire. It was far too easy for her to imagine a million volts of electricity shooting through her body, burning the fur off of her skin and cooking her from the inside out.

She quickly walked back around to the front, just to get rid of the temptation.

She stood beside Andrew, each one of them knowing perfectly well that their window of opportunity had grown shorter then ever and was continuing to shrink in size every minute, yet neither one of them could move. They both stood, transfixed, at the gateway before them and the endless stream of zeros and ones that flew inside of it. They knew that on the other side Myotismon waited. No more guards, no more tricks, just the last fight they would have.

_That's assuming that this portal takes you where you want to go,_ that wicked little voice inside of her said. It had remained quiet for awhile now, but it seemed that it had only been sleeping. _Could be another trap. This thing could take you anywhere, anywhere at all, like right over the top of an active volcano, for instance…_

It was possible, yes, but what other choice did they have? She tried to tell herself that this had to be the right way, after all; this was where Biyomon appeared from and where Dracmon attempted to run to. Even if she hadn't seen either of these things the energy she felt baking from the other side of this door, the pure _evil_. That should have been more than enough to tell her that this was right way.

Still, there was that doubt. Except, it really was fear; fear for her own life, fear for Andrew's. Fear for this world and every other world that might lie beyond. Everything was hinging on their next few decisions. She had known that this moment, this battle, was coming for some time now, but even so she did not feel as prepared as she wanted to be.

She had told the boy on numerous occasions that they were ready, that they could win. She still believed this even now, they had the chance of winning, but it was far from a sure thing. After all, they had already lost one of their team.

Renamon looked down at the boy. He had taken her death very hard and, in a way, she couldn't blame him. Somehow Andrew had seen something in LadyDevimon that she either couldn't or wouldn't see for herself. She didn't trust her, didn't like her, and even felt threatened by her. It wasn't her safety that she thought that was in danger, but rather, it was the boy's affection she thought she might lose.

The times they spent together, the stories he would tell her about his world, the look in his eyes, the innocence of his laugh, his touch, his voice, even his scent; she had grown fond of all of these things, perhaps even addicted to them, and the thought of losing them all to someone else... that scared her more than what may happen in the next few minutes ever could.

Over time she had grown used to the boy, and even enjoyed his company. In her entire life she had never had anyone who put her so on edge, yet at the same time made her feel so relaxed as he did. She would have done anything in the world for him, all he had to do was ask. Caring about someone this much; she found it so terrifying and yet so exciting.

The boy looked up, perhaps feeling her eyes upon him. For a brief moment, she felt the overpowering urge to look away, to shoot her eyes in some other direction and hope that he didn't notice. If they had been in any other kind of situation, she might have done just that. It was so much easier to hide behind her personal barriers than it was to let him in. She cared deeply for her Tamer, trusted him with her very life, but the idea of letting even him inside. If he hurt her... she would never be able to recover from that. Of that, she was sure.

Still, when the boy's eyes looked up and into her own, Renamon forced herself not to run. She saw many things in those eyes: fear, loss, despair, hope, courage, determination, and so many others: thoughts and feelings for which there simply were not words. Renamon wondered if they had always been there, and she was only now able to see them.

She reached out, not sure of what she was going to do, but at the same time refusing to let her self think about it. If she did, then she was very likely to chicken out. Moving with the care of someone working with a delicate item, Renamon took the boy's hands in her own, enjoying their strength and warmth for what could very seriously be the last time.

"Rookie," she said. "Andrew, I mean, I..." She trailed off, not knowing what she meant to say, what _could_ she say? How could someone like her, someone who had spent her entire life alone no matter how many others surrounded her, ever be able to express the things she felt? It was stupid, perhaps even pointless to even try. "I just... being your Partner... it was an honor, and... and I don't regret it. Not for one second."

"You're talking like we might not be coming back out," the boy said and to his credit, his voice was very steady and calm. He spoke like someone who has accepted their fate, yet has decided to press forward anyway.

"That's very possible. In case something does happen, if we don't come back, I just... I wanted to say that I... I-"

"No," the boy interrupted.

Renamon stood there, stunned; her mouth hanging open and looking like someone who had taken an unexpected and violent smack to the face. "W-what?"

"No," he repeated as if that explained everything.

"What the hell do you mean 'no'?" she replied with a bit more heat than she really meant.

"We're not saying anything like that," he calmly explained. "Not here. Not like this. If you still want to... to talk, then we will afterwards when all of this is over, but not one second sooner. I'm not risking anything that could even sound close to 'goodbye' until then, alright? This isn't goodbye, so we're not doing it."

Renamon tried to pull her hands away, but now it was the boy who was holding on to them. She knew that she could free herself if she tried, but she found she really didn't want to. Still, that didn't stop frustration she suddenly felt.

"I've never met anyone who pissed me off as much as you do," she said through tightly clenched teeth. "You drive me insane! You're impossible, you know that? You're fucking _impossible_!"

That look of calm on his face never changed, never even faltered. Andrew simply held on to her hands and stood up on the very tips of his toes. When they were as close to face-to-face as they could be like this, the boy leaned in and place one soft, sweet, and tragically short kiss upon her cheek.

"I know," he whispered, sounding almost apologetic.

The black fury storming inside of her went out like a candle, as did the very strong urge to punch the kid right in the gut at full power. She was still angry, a little, but even that was fading away. She could still feel the place on her cheek where his lips had touched and a red heat still burned across her face, but now it was no longer from aggravation.

"We could die," she protested, but now her tone had become soft and unconvincing.

"Then let's not."

As much as she didn't want to smile at that moment, she couldn't help but to let the faint traces of one touch her lips.

_Let's just choose not to die,_ she thought_. Yeah. I could get behind that._

"Come on," Andrew was saying now. He had let go of one hand, but was still holding firm onto the other. This was the one he gave a slight tug. "Still one more thing we need to do."

"Yeah," Renamon agreed. "Yeah. Gotta pay a visit to our old friend."

Hand-in-hand, the two headed towards the portal and towards whatever lay beyond, whether or not they would come back out; that was in the hands of destiny.

**O O O**

It was almost exactly like his dreams told him it would be; a world of nothing where the only thing that existed was a constant blackness that seemed to always be moving, shifting, bubbling. It was alive, but worse; it was aware.

One second they had been standing in the underground crypt, making their way towards the portal. As they closed in, Andrew could feel the energy it gave off making his skin crawl and his hair feel like it wanted to stand on end. If he had looked behind them and saw how Renamon's tail had bushed out, he wouldn't have been at all surprised.

They had taken one more step, their hands tightening down on one another, drawing strength from the other person, each knowing that if they faltered now they might never work up the courage for a second try. Andrew closed his eyes. There was a split second of vertigo as he stepped out of one world and into another, and then it passed as quickly as it had come.

Andrew felt Renamon's hand leave his, and he dared to open his eyes. They were still standing on ground, but it was no longer quite as solid. Andrew and Renamon found themselves standing at one edge of an almost perfectly round circle of earth that seemed to float in the nothingness that surrounded it like a boat on still water. The ground was made of dirt and was perfectly flat. It was almost as if someone had scooped up a piece of earth with a melon-baller and plopped it here. As far as he could tell, it was the only piece of solid ground anywhere within the darkness.

The strange thing about the nothingness was; despite its utter blackness, he could still see. The light was low and the colors were muted, almost as if the dark was feasting upon it, but at least Andrew wasn't blind. Where it came from was something he could not tell, and whether that was a good thing or not, he didn't know.

A low growl came from Renamon's throat. Her fists were clenched into tight balls and her lips were pulled back to reveal her sharp teeth. Following her line of sight, he saw for the first time the figure that stood at the other end of their large patch of earth. His back was turned and the light was poor, but Andrew had no problem recognizing the shape.

Myotismon.

He turned to face them, his hands clamped behind his back and his cape puffing out as he moved. His lips may have been smiling, but his eyes were staring daggers into them. If hate alone was enough to kill a person, Andrew thought he would have been dead right then and there. When he spoke, his voice was pleasant enough, but it was impossible to miss the soulless abhorrence he must have felt for the two of them.

"I suppose I should applaud you for making it this far. Even I have to admit how impressed I am with your relentless pursuit of me. I'm flattered, truly." He favored them with a mock bow. "You've destroyed my supply line of Dark Rings, prevented me from taking the Digimite in the Frozen Peaks, and have systematically caused the death of each and every one of my followers. Even the turn-coat." This last part he said directly to Andrew, letting their eyes meet. Andrew refused to give Myotismon the pleasure of showing any emotion towards his words, but the man laughed like he had anyway.

"Tell me, boy," he said with false curiosity. "Did you at least have some fun with that woman before letting her die? She can be quite the hell-cat, am I right?"

"Shut up," Andrew said, his jaw clenched so tight he thought he would shatter his teeth.

"Don't let him get to you," Renamon said, touching his arm for just a moment.

Myotismon laughed again; a sound the chilled Andrew's very blood. "Oh, so the pet knows how to speak! You better listen to her, boy. Don't let me get to you. You wouldn't want to die upset, now would you?"

Andrew took a step forward, refusing to be intimidated. He was sick and tired of being mocked and manipulated by this beast. "I won't let you do this any longer! You won't finish this sick plan of yours, you… you _freak_!"

The man removed his hands from behind his back and held them out as if displaying some great item. "Look around you! I already have won! You're in my domain now, child. From this emptiness I was spawned and it is this emptiness that I will unleash upon the digital world until it has been crushed out of existence," he tittered as if he were telling a very amusing joke. "Just look at you: one lone child and one tiny Digimon. All of your friends, your allies, where are they now? That Elder of yours, why is he not here? Think about it; is this world truly worth saving when in your final minutes of life, you stand alone?"

Myotismon began to pace back and forth, making a short line in the dirt. "I've faced your kind before," he continued. "You 'humans', you're a worthless species that destroys everything you touch. Your very existence is an abomination upon the universe. You are a mistake. A fluke. One I plan on correcting. The only thing that disgusts me more are the 'Partners' that follow you; pathetic lap-dogs that dare call themselves Digimon while they lick the boots of those who command them. Time and time again you DigiDestined have risen against me in an attempt to destroy me." Myotismon stopped in his tracks and turned to face them. "Yet here I still stand; my work and myself living on. Your kind dares to label me a villain, when it's you who constantly destroy this world and your own. What I do is for the greater good! I will restore balance to this universe! I will bring salvation through destruction! Those who share my vision will be spared, but those who oppose me will be crushed. If you opened your eyes you'd see I am the only chance this universe has!"

"You're no savior," Andrew cried, pointing an accusing finger towards the creature. "You're a deranged monster; a power-hungry madman! You're nothing more then a petty thug!"

"You do not understand what I do," Myotismon sigh with a sad shake of his head, "so you seek to destroy it. How very human of you."

They boy's hands balled up into tight fists as he was consumed by a level of anger he had never known possible. Andrew didn't know if Myotismon truly believed the things that he was saying, or if he was just a zealot who needed to give definition to the destruction that he caused. Whatever it was that Myotismon may or may not feel did not matter. Even if he truly did think that his goals were somehow justified, the actions that he had taken along the way, the blood he had spilled and the lives he destroyed, these things could never be forgiven.

"We're done talking," Renamon said. "You're a coward who's just trying to stall for time. I'm done listening to your insane babbling."

"By all means, if you're ready to die then feel free to attack." Myotismon answered with a welcoming spread of his arms. "No one is stopping you."

**O O O**

Renamon, who was more then happy to put a stop to Myotismon's insanity and endless monologs, raced across the ground and dove towards the man, teeth shown and claws outstretched; ready to slice the madman into pieces.

Myotismon made no to attempted to move. He simply stood there with his hands back behind him and that smug grin of superiority upon his face. How Renamon hated that look. She was going to be more then happy to cut it right off of his face. She was concerned, however, at how he made no effort to dodge her attack, or even launch one of his own. She didn't like this, but there was no way to stop now; she was already nearing the end of her decent. He was already in arms reach. No way he could dodge now, she thought.

Renamon swung with her razor-like claws...

And hit nothing but air.

Renamon landed and was dumbfounded to find that Myotismon, who had been standing directly in front of her less then a heartbeat ago, was now gone. It was like he just vanished into thin air. She didn't even blink, just one second he was there and the next; nothing.

The sound of cold-hearted laughter emanated from her back. Renamon quickly spun on her heels to find the man had somehow gotten behind her. She readied her claws to attack again, but didn't even have time to raise her arm before Myotismon smacked her across the face with the back of his hand. The force of the blow caused her to stumble backwards and was hard enough to make her ears ring. She tried to get her balance back, but never had the time. Myotismon was suddenly coming at her again, delivering a hard punch directly into her gut. Renamon, not expecting the blow, had no time to steel her stomach against it. She threw her arms across her wounded mid section, trying not to double over from the pain and fighting the urge to throw up what little was left of the last meal she had eaten two days before.

Using Renamon's own tactic of not giving an opponent even a second to catch their breath, he cocked back his right arm and delivered a devastating uppercut that connected right under Renamon's jaw.

The unfeasible force of the blow sent the fox sailing up into the air with Myotismon quickly following in pursuit. Leaping upwards himself, Myotismon allowed his body to rise just slightly higher then hers before balling both hands together into one massive fist which he brought down right between her shoulder blades.

Renamon's battered and bruised body hit the ground, bounced, and then hit again, this time settling. Her face ached, her chest burned, and every breath she took sent a hot bolt of agony through her skull. When she coughed, she wasn't surprised to see the blood that came out of her mouth.

Trying to struggle back to her feet, the fox managed to do no more then prop herself on her hands and knees before she felt the force of Myotismon's boot come down upon her back, violently knocking her face-first to the ground, digging her into the dirt.

"Renamon!" she heard the boy scream, and managed to open up one eye to look at a world that had gone badly out of focus. She watched as the boy foolishly started to run towards her.

"Andrew, no," she croaked.

From her position, Renamon didn't see Myotismon bring forth the glowing red whip he had used on her before, but what she did see was the end of it striking the ground inches away from Andrew's feet, causing him to stop cold and kick up a cloud of dirt.

"Not yet, boy," Myotismon cooed. "Your time will come soon enough, but first you get to watch while I torment your pet here. I'll have her screaming for death, but before I grant her that sweet release, you're going to watch as she denounces you as her Tamer."

"I would never-" Renamon started, before getting cut off by Myotismon digging the heel of his boot into her back.

"Speak when spoken to," he corrected.

The boy's face was a mixture of desperation and determination. She had to admire the fact that, even when facing a devil like Myotismon, Andrew was still able to be brave. After all, bravery was not about having fear, it was about fighting through it.

Did _she_ tell Andrew that? She couldn't quite remember. If not, then she would. If she got out of this, that was. Right now she couldn't even move. Every time she tried to get up, Myotismon would just drive the heel of his shoe into her spine a little harder, sometimes even twisting it back and forth just to add to the pain.

He could kill her at any time, probably even with his first attack if he so wished, but that wasn't what he wanted. Myotismon was like a cat that had cornered it's pray. The point wasn't to kill the mouse, but to see just how long the game could last. There was no doubt in her mind that the man really did mean to make her beg for death, but she wouldn't. No matter what he did to her, she would never beg. Not to him.

_And I won't denounce Andrew_, she thought, steeling her mind against the notion; making it poison to even consider. _Never. Never Andrew. He's my Tamer, my friend. I will never betray him._

And speaking of the boy, she found he was now franticly dipping a hand into his pocket and Renamon knew exactly what it was the boy was looking for; a certain little blue and grey egg-shaped hunk of plastic.

Earlier, during the fight with Garudamon, Andrew had asked if he should use the Digivice so Renamon could evolve into something more powerful. She had considered the idea, but only briefly. She knew perfectly well, or thought she did, about the kind of power they were going to be facing once they stepped through the portal. At the time, she thought it would be a smart idea to conserve as much of their energy as possible until they faced Myotismon.

_And just look where that brilliant idea took you,_ the wicked voice mocked. _LadyDevimon's dead, you're being beaten to a pulp, and the boy is stuck watching. Good job, girl. Genius. _

She had underestimated his power, yes, but that didn't mean that she was helpless. Maybe as Renamon she couldn't fight back, but as someone stronger...

The boy had fished the Digivice from his pocket, and how held it out towards her and if he could just use it, if she could just Digivolve into a stronger form, than she could tip the scales in their favor once more.

"Ah, ah, ah," Myotismon said bringing up the whip and with a flick of his wrist sending the red beam of energy towards the boy. "We won't be having any of that!"

Renamon saw the end of the whip struck dead center with the Digivice Andrew held. She couldn't tell if the whip had hit his hand as well, but if so the boy was too stunned to cry out.

The three of the watched as the device flew out of the boy's grasp, through the air... and towards the edge.

"No!" Andrew screamed as he spun around to chase after it. Renamon tried to shout at him to stop, but couldn't mange more than a tiny squeak as the boy madly ran after his Digivice like a dog chasing a Frisbee.

Andrew jumped up in the air, caught it between his hands, nearly dropped it, and then managed to tighten a grip around it, but he landed just on the border of the land they stood upon. Andrew's arms flew out, franticly trying to regain balance and he appeared as if he was just about to catch it. That was when the dirt beneath him gave out from under his feet.

Renamon watched with wide eyes and her mouth open in a silent scream as Andrew went tumbling over the side and into the nothingness below.

**To be continued.**


	30. Chapter 29

**Chapter Twenty-Nine**

The whip had missed the boy's fingers by fractions of an inch, though he didn't know if this was by sheer luck or impossibly precise aim on Myotismon's part. Andrew hoped for the first, because the consequences of the second were not pleasant to think about. By luck or by skill, the answer wasn't important, what was important was the his Digivice was knocked clear from his hands and was flying end over end through the air, heading ever closer to edge of their limited patch of earth where it would sail off; lost forever.

Andrew cried out and ran after the device. He wasn't thinking; he just knew that he had to get a hold of it before it had a chance to disappear over the lip. If he lost it, if something were to happen to that small, but precious item, then it was all over. Myotismon was too powerful for Renamon to beat alone and without the Digivice there was no way she could evolve. They would be screwed; utterly and completely screwed.

Andrew chased down the device, his eyes locked solely on it as he moved rather on how close to the edge he was getting. Putting every last bit of energy he had, the boy leapt up into the air to catch it, all the while remembering quite clearly that there was a reason he was always picked last for softball in P.E.

His fingers caressed one edge of the Digivice, but nothing else. Not willing to give up, not willing to doom all of existence because he couldn't catch one stupid little hunk of plastic, the boy made one last impossible reach...

And the Digivice fell right into his palm. Completely stunned by his luck, but not willing to test it any further, he closed his fingers around it as tightly as he could. Andrew felt himself drop, he landed, and then... he was looking down into the nothingness. Suddenly feeling the same way Wile E. Coyote must feel when he inadvertently walks off the side of a canyon, Andrew threw out his arms and trying to get his balance, and for one falsely hopeful beat, Andrew thought he had it, but with nothing to support his weight this close to the edge, the think layer of ground he stood on gave way, and he was falling.

Twisting his body around, Andrew blindly reached up with his free hand in an effort to grab at something to stop his plummet. Earlier, he had thought to himself that this piece of ground looked like someone had scooped it up out of the earth and hung it in the air. Andrew now got to see how accrete his idle musing was.

On the underside of the patch of earth they stood upon, which vaguely made the shape of an upside-down triangle when looked at from this angle, thousands of roots hung, dangling into the nothingness. The boy didn't know where they came from, or what they were once attached to, but if they held his weight, he didn't care. The boy reached out, grabbed one, and with a quick motion from his hand he twisted the root around his arm. His stop was sudden and hard enough to cause his teeth to click together and a sharp pain to jolt through his arm. Despite his best efforts to save it, Andrew might have dropped the Digivice if he didn't have such a death grip around it.

_Gonna need the Jaws of Life to get this thing out of my hand,_ his confused mind joked, apparently not realizing just how close it and the body around it had come to spending the rest of their life tumbling down an endless pit.

He wouldn't be able to hold on forever, even with the vine wrapped tightly (and painfully) around his arm eventually he was going to have to let go. He would need to work fast since he didn't know just how secure this vine was fastened into the earth above him, Andrew turned his eyes down, trying to focus only on the Digivice rather then the vast, bottomless pit that moved and bubbled below him.

"Please," he asked it, preying that Myotismon didn't somehow break it after striking at it with his energy whip. "Please help her. Something powerful, something strong. I don't care how much of my energy she needs. I don't care if I drop, just help her!"

He turned the device palm up, as it felt it warm up in his hand. Just like before, there was a heat that came off of it; strong, but not painful. In a way, the sensation was almost pleasant and made him think of curling under a warm blanket on a cold winter morning.

The small screen began to glow and a moment later a beam of white light shot from it, first straight upwards and then suddenly turning at a sharp right angle once it rose above the floating earth before disappearing from his sight.

For what felt like an eternity, there was nothing and Andrew began to fear that something had gone wrong. Maybe his power wasn't enough to help, maybe Myotismon stopped it somehow, or maybe... maybe Renamon was already dead.

_No,_ Andrew thought, feeling his heart sink in his chest. _No, no, no, no, no, no. Be okay. Be alive. Please don't let me be too late._

Then he heard it: a single cry. It was of surprise rather then pain, but wasn't what mattered. The important thing to Andrew was this: that cry was male. What followed were sounds of a scuffle, feet moving around on the dirt, then a second cry; this one also male and this time it _was_ in pain.

Andrew heard footsteps closing in; heavy and strong on the dirt above him and getting closer with every second. The boy craned his neck up hoping, preying, that the face that would be peering down at him would be friendly, not knowing what he would do if it turned out to be Myotismon, if this was all some sort of trick. Maybe he would just let go. At the very least it would be denying Myotismon the satisfaction of killing the boy himself.

Three things came into his line of sight first; tall and cone shaped. The one in the middle was the tallest and widest and colored a dark purple. The two smaller ones on the sides were white and had strange markings on them Andrew couldn't identify. All of that left his mind, however, when a face appeared. Its expression was nearly overflowing with concern and fear, but the most important part was it was Renamon's.

Well, sort of. The face was similar, but not exactly the same; there were two purple lines under her eyes instead of one, and three similar markings ran from the space between her eyes and up her forehead. Her face looked thinner and slightly closer in appearance to human then fox, but it was still covered with the same yellow fur. It was Renamon; an upgraded version that Andrew had never seen before, but it was her.

The middle point he had seen had been a tall hat and the ones on the sides were spikes that stuck out from the flowing cream-colored robe she now wore. At least, he thought that was right; all the colors were still distorted here.

"Hi," he said, surprising himself with the calmness in his voice despite the circumstances. "My name's Andrew. What's yours?"

The creature above him (Renamon, but not) actually gave a short bark of a laugh and shook her head once back and forth as if to say; 'I can't believe this kid'.

"Taomon," she said while she reached down; a large, powerful hand blossoming from beneath a long sleeve and grabbed on to his arm. Knowing beyond a doubt that this was still Renamon, just with a different appearance, Andrew trusted her to hold him as he let go on the vine and allowed it to unwind from his arm. If nothing else, he enjoyed the feeling of not having the hard root cutting into his flesh. His trust, he found, was well placed as Taomon easily pulled up back up onto solid ground, and two things only made it better from there: the first thing Taomon did was wrap her arms around him in one massive bear-hug, the size of her flowing robes nearly blotting him completely out of sight, and the second was seeing that Myotismon was down on his knees, one hand propping him up while the other was clutching his chest. He was taking hard, deep breaths. He was hurt.

**O O O**

That moment burned into her mind. The ground began to slide out from beneath the boy's feet and she watched, completely helpless, as he dropped. The last thing she saw was his hand shooting up reaching for something, anything, to grab on to. Maybe it was even her that Andrew was reaching for. In his last seconds before slipping off the edge, wasn't it possible that he had reached out for her help; help that she could not give. She had failed him. In the end, she wasn't strong enough and she had failed.

Tears began to roll down her cheeks. Renamon closed her eyes as tightly as she could, but it did nothing to stop the flood. Andrew was gone, falling forever down an endless pit. Some sick part of her mind tried to imagine what such a hell might be like; to simply fall and fall for the rest of your life; never stopping, never slowing. There was nothing but you and the descent forever.

Her body went limp beneath Myotismon's heel. She no longer even bothered to fight against it, there ceased to be a point. She was doomed and the Digital World was as good as destroyed, but she couldn't care less about either of these things. It was Andrew that mattered. Andrew who was strong and innocent, beautiful and brave. The child who could drive her to the point of blind fury one minute and then emotional bliss the next. All she had to do was protect him, keep him safe. It was the only truly meaningful thing that she had ever been asked to do in her life, and she was too weak. Now he was gone, and he would never know what she wanted to say.

_You little idiot,_ her mind screamed at him. _Why couldn't you let me tell you how I felt? Why couldn't you just let me say it?_

"Well now, that's a shame," Myotismon had remarked as casually as someone driving home from the store and realizing they forgot bread. "I was so looking forward to killing the boy myself." Myotismon turned his gaze down upon her. Even though she couldn't see it, she could feel his eyes burning into her. "What this? No quip? No remark of foolish bravado? I thought you had more fight in you than that." He pressed his boot a little deeper into her back, forcing the air out of Renamon's lungs. "It's just as I believed; humans make Digimon weak."

Myotismon laughed as he continued to press his weight down on her, perhaps meaning to break her spine in the process. Whatever the case, Renamon didn't care. She had given up. There wasn't a point to fighting anymore. Let Myotismon kill her. Maybe in death she would get some peace.

The laughing stopped so abruptly that Renamon couldn't help but open her eyes to see what was going on. She saw the thin beam of light, the same thing that caused Myotismon to cut off his mad cackling, as it flew up from the same place she had watched Andrew fall.

The light made a sharp right angle that should have been impossible for the speed at which it was traveling. Now it was heading for her like a bullet. She had only seen this light once before, but she recognized it immediately and for one second, her heart dared to give a flutter of hope.

As soon as she was struck, her entire body light up in a blinding glow, and the first thing she noticed was aches emanated from her face, jaw, and gut were gone almost as if they had never been there at all, and riding right on the heels of this was a sudden explosion of power and energy so strong that Renamon thought she would burst from it. The force was like nothing she had ever known before. Even the incredible sensation she received back in Koemon Village was nothing compared to this. She felt her body changing, morphing, evolving into something new; something bigger and stronger.

She was no longer Renamon, and even though her new name was one that she had never heard before in her life, she understood it perfectly well: she was Taomon.

Reaching one arm behind her, Taomon tightly grabbed onto Myotismon's ankle. The man, not expecting the sudden speed at which the tables had turned, cried out in surprise and tried to pull his leg free without prevail.

Taomon then flung Myotismon off of her as easily as she would have thrown a stuffed toy. Sailing across to the other side of the platform, Myotismon just barely managed to straiten himself out before landing.

"You bitch," he hissed, raising his arm to strike out at her with his whip.

Propelling herself up into the air, Taomon easily evaded the attack and quickly countered with one of her own. Holding out her arms, she fired thousands of rectangular sheets of paper from the sleeves of her robes. On each slip was written a powerful magical symbol. They struck the ground in a tight circle around Myotismon, binding him in place before bursting into flames, surrounding him with fire.

She heard Myotismon let out a horrific cry as the flames burned into his flesh, and if there was ever a chance to end this battle as quickly as possible, this would be it; to deliver the killing blow before the beast could escape from his fiery prison.

This, however, did not even cross Taomon's mind. Instead, she left the madman to burn, forgotten, as she raced over to the edge of the earth where Andrew had slipped. She didn't know what she would find when she got there and was afraid of getting her hopes up, but if there was a chance, even a tiny one, that the boy was still alive, that she could still save him somehow, she would risk everything to take it.

Dropping to her knees, Taomon looked down over the edge and, for one terrible moment, she really only did see an endless sea of black, but this moment was mercifully short. Leaning a little further, not even thinking about what would happen if Myotismon broke free from her trap and gave her one hard boot to the ass; Taomon's eyes finally came across the boy. Somehow, he had managed to grab on to a long root that flowed out from the underside of the 'V' shaped piece of land he had fallen over. He had wrapped it tightly-and painfully, if the purple color creeping into his bicep was any indication-around his arm and was now dangling.

She was too overcome with stunned disbelief to say, or even do anything. She might have just stayed that way if the boy hadn't broken the silence for her.

"Hi," he said, sounding very casual. "My name's Andrew. What's yours?"

Taomon introduced herself, feeling like laughing and crying all at the same time as she reached down and pulled the boy back up. The second he was back on solid ground, or at least as solid as ground that floated in the middle of empty space could be, she hugged him, nearly squeezing him tight enough to pop his head off. It was the only way she could keep herself from punching the little bastard for scaring her so badly. She might still do that later, though.

She heard a low growl of fury and hate coming from Myotismon's throat. Letting go of the boy, Taomon turned to see Myotismon stumble back to his feet. His clothes were charred and blackened, and his body was covered with burns, the worst of which slashed across his chest.

"Do you think this is over?" he shirked at them. "Do you think that you've won? You've done nothing. _Nothing_! Have you forgotten? This is my realm! Your powers are nothing compared to my own! I will rip you apart, I will feast on your flesh, and I will use your skulls like cups to drink your blood! I am the Dark Lord! _I am God!_"

Myotismon's eyes rolled back into his head as the man held his arms strait out to either side. An inhuman cry of rage that made Taomon's blood freeze cold inside of her veins came from the man and rose to such deafening levels that she had to cover her ears with her hands. Myotismon's cape and clothes began to flap in a wind that neither she nor the boy could feel as blackness grew out from Myotismon's body, blanketing every inch of his body, and then began to grow.

The blackness expanded larger and larger until it finally burst like a balloon, sending out a shockwave in all directions strong enough to throw both Andrew and Taomon to the ground. What stood before then now was a creature of white and red that looked more machine then man. What Taomon could only assume were massive, purple wings shoot out erect from his shoulders and a long, snake-like tail trailed behind him.

"Bow before your lord," he commanded in a new, booming voice. "Bow before MaloMyotismon!"

**O O O**

Whatever lighthearted joy there may have been inside of the boy's heart quickly faded at the sight of the mechanical beast that stood before them; an impossible creature of devastating power that even Andrew could feel. The darkness seemed to close in around them, tightening its grip almost as if in response to the will of its master. Andrew found himself taking one step away from the beast, and then another. If he could have taken a hundred of them, he might have done just that.

If it was fear Taomon was feeling just then, she refused to show it. Her face was a stone cold stare of determination. Even as MaloMyotismon let out a devastating howl and sped across the ground towards then, she never faltered, never flinched. Moving with a speed that Andrew could barely see, Taomon leveled her right arm and opened up her hand as if she expected something to appear in it which, in a way, something did. Andrew watched as her sleeve suddenly bulged and something that, to Andrew, looked like a gigantic paint brush that was roughly the same size as him as it slid seamlessly into Taomon's waiting palm.

She brought this brush up before her, holding it horizontal in both hands, just as MaloMyotismon closed in. He slashed forward with both claws so quickly that his hands appeared to be nothing more then white and red streaks in the air. Taomon, however, seemed to have no problems tracking his moments. She brought up the brush, stopping the attack.

For a moment, the two only stood there; muscles tightening and feet digging into the ground as each attempted to over power the other. Seeing that he could not simply plow through his opponent with brute force, MaloMyotismon fell back on his dexterity. With a quick spin of his body, the man attempted to strike Taomon with his tail. By either incredible skill or even more incredible luck, Taomon dodged the attack by mere inches by leaping upwards in the sky, leaving the tail to only slice through the air with a sharp 'whoosh'. At the height of her ascent, Taomon raised the brush above her head and swung downwards and she landed. MaloMyotismon had jumped backwards out of range, but Andrew was stunned to see the massive crater the brush created in the ground when it struck. Despite its weak and almost comical appearance, the brush seemed to back a hell of a punch.

Andrew watched as Taomon was immediately moving in on MaloMyotismon as soon as she hit the ground. She swung with the brush as if it were a baseball bat. MaloMyotismon managed to get one arm up to block the attack before swiping with the other. Taomon moved her head to one side, just scarcely avoiding having it removed. She swung with her own claws forcing MaloMytotismon back. Once she had the brush free, she came at him with it again.

He watched, completely enthralled by the battle before him, as the two traded blows back and forth. Every once in awhile one would land, but neither seemed to hit anything mortal enough to change the stalemate they seemed to have reached.

"Enough," MaloMyotismon roared, acting as though he had grown tired of this game of back-and-forth. From the wings that sprouted out of the beast (wings that would look right at home on some kind of fighter jet, Andrew thought) there came a spray of red mist. Covering her nose and mouth with the cloth from her sleeve, Taomon quickly jumped back towards the boy and out of range of the gas, but not before a corner of one of her oversized sleeves came in contact with the mist. The edge of the sleeve almost instantly burst into flame. Eyes wide and moving quickly, Taomon dropped the brush and with her newly open hand, ripped the sleeve off of her robes and tossed it aside.

By the time the fabric his the ground a few seconds later, it had become completely engulfed in flames; burning and bubbling, releasing a strange red smoke as it was reduced to ashes.

"I will show you what a real fire looks like, beast," the monster taunted. The oval shaped holes on his wings began to glow a bright red and neither Andrew nor Taomon needed to ask what was going to happen next. Scooping the boy up into her arms, Taomon pulled both of them out of the way just as heat rays that seemed to be made of the same darkness that floated everywhere around them fired from his shoulders. The explosion that it generated in the spot they were standing mere moments ago sent the massive brush flying upward in the air where it spun end over end before hitting the ground. Amazingly enough, it didn't break.

No sooner had they landed, though, MaloMyotismon had gotten a fix on them and fired again. Continuing to exorcise her unimaginable speed, Taomon moved the two of them out of harms way again. Now she was racing across the landscape with Andrew trucked in her arms, all the while the beams from the heat ray gaining closer and closer.

Perhaps realizing that they had very little space to dodge with and that sooner or later his blasts would catch up with them; Taomon stretched the arm that was still hidden under her sleeve into the air. From it, Andrew saw several sheets of rectangular paper fly upwards into the air where they rose several feet before stopping. Each one then fired a blue beam of light, forcing MaloMyotismon to stop his constant barrage in order to block the assault.

Taking the short window of opportunity she had been provided, Taomon made a hard turn and started to race towards her fallen brush. "Tuck and roll," she whispered to him, and before Andrew to could ask just what she meant by that, she dropped him.

Instinctively taking her advice, Andrew threw his arms over his face and pulled himself up into a tight ball. The moment he felt the ground, the boy rolled to distribute the force of the landing. The hard, rocky landscape bit into his skin cutting him in several places on his arms as well as opening a nice tear in right leg of his jeans, but otherwise he managed to avoid real injury.

Looking up, Andrew saw several things happen within the span of no more than the blink of his eye. The first event was Taomon reaching her brush and plucking it off the ground. The next was MaloMyotismon firing the beams of black light at the floating spell papers, reducing them to ash before turning back to his opponent. The final thing was Taomon using both hands to use the brush to paint a symbol into the very air in front of her.

The symbol was not anything that the boy could immediately recognize, but its shape and design stuck him as being something of extreme spiritual power though he had not the faintest clue why he would know that, it was just a feeling it gave off; an aura of strength. From this symbol shot a blue light similar to that from the spell paper. The difference between the two, however, was size. Where as the spell paper gave off a beam roughly the size of a pen, this particular light was about as big as a cannonball and looked to hit with the same force.

Rather then attempt to block the attack or evade it all together, MaloMyotismon powered up his at attack once more and fired it upon the beam. Andrew didn't know if something inside the man's twisted mind told him he could overpower the light, or maybe obliterate it all together, but whatever it was MaloMyotismon was expecting, and what actually happened next were not likely to be the same.

The extra fraction of a second it took for the monster to re-fuel his energy allowed the blue beam of light to gain a considerable amount of distance, so when the blast of his attack struck head-on with that of Taomon's, the aftermath resulted in an significant explosion that blew inches away from MaloMyotismon's face. The force of the detonation struck MaloMyotismon like a wrecking ball sending him upwards and outwards. The two watched as his burning, screaming body was thrown far outside the small arena that they had battled upon and tumbled out of sight.

Andrew and Taomon, both stunned silent by the event that had just unfolded before them, at first only looked at one another in complete disbelief. In that moment of silence, they both had the same idea at the same time: they needed to check and make sure MaloMyotismon was gone. Together they ran towards the edge; Andrew remembering every horror movie he had ever seen. This was about the time the bad guy came back for one last scare. Taomon, much more practically, thought that there was no way it was over. The battle hadn't exactly been easy, but this just didn't feel right. There was simply no way.

As the reached the crater's crumbing boarders, though, and carefully peered down into the darkness, neither one saw any trace of the beast. Unlike Andrew, MaloMyotismon had be thrown too far from the floating ground to find something to grab hold of, and as impressive and powerful as those wing-like things from his shoulders might have been, they didn't seem to grant him flight.

MaloMyotismon was gone.

They stepped back from the darkness, neither one wanting to be that close to the edge any longer then they had to be. Once again they turned towards one another, and despite the even greater height distance between the two, their eyes met perfectly. They gazed at each other in, as if neither one could really believe what was going on. It was Andrew who broke the silence, as he often seemed to do.

"Is it over?" he asked, his self-proclaimed knowledge of scary movies failing to warn him how badly the answer to that popular question often seemed to prove.

The ground began to rumble. Just as the two began to retreat further to the center, the entire world around them seemed to fill with a deafening cry of mindless hatred.

No, Andrew realized with a new level of horror. It was definitely not over.

**O O O**

He tumbled through the darkness, end over end; head buzzing, body aching, and conciseness fading. He had felt himself slipping away and nearly embraced it. He would accept this sleep. He would return to his hibernation where he would grow stronger. Let the pathetic Destined and his pet believe that the battle had been theirs. He would return in time, and on that day he would show them that all of their actions had been in vein. One day, this world would be his.

Just as he was about to slip away, a voice spoke to him. He heard it not to his ears, but to his mind. It was the voice of the dark. The voice of the black. The voice of the empty.

It asked him if he wanted true power.

He said he did.

It asked if he would embrace it as its host.

He said he would.

It asked if he would obey.

He said he will.

The energy that filled his body was incredible and completely beyond description. As the blackness entered his very being, blotting out his mind and feeding his power, Myotismon felt himself starting to change. He was growing larger and taller than any Digimon in existence, his power reaching far beyond even his own dreams. MaloMyotismon ceased to fall into the darkness, and VenomMyotismon rose out of it, screaming his pure hatred so that all of existence may hear.

The brat and his pet were gazing up at him now, their eyes wide with fear and awe as they gazed upon the face of their true God for the first time.

The pet, the one that called itself 'Taomon', pushed the kid away. She raised her brush and drew another symbol into the air. Before, he had feared this thing the second he felt its release. To even allow an attacked loaded with such holy power to come near him would be risking more than he dared, to actually be struck with it was unthinkable. He had fired upon the light with a beam of his own, meaning to destroy it before it could destroy him, but the bitch had thrown him off balance, and his attack came a second too late. The blast of pure holy energy was more than he could take. As MaloMyotismon, such a force would be enough to destroy him, but now...

Now he didn't even flinch, didn't move a single muscle as the beam of blue light fired straight at him catching him just above the chest. He felt nothing, not even a pinch. The powers of light meant nothing to the likes of a god like him. His evil, his darkness was stronger than anything than anything the bitch-of-the-light could throw at him.

Laughing like a madman, VenomMyotismon decided that if they wanted a light show, then he would show them how it was truly done.

Focusing his newfound power, he fired beams of powerful energy from his eyes. The light swam with every color imaginable; red, blue, green, yellow, white, and black. Lots and lots of black. The image was powerful, beautiful, and devastating.

The bitch was fast, but even she was not able to run, and VenomMyotismon watched with a special sort of satisfaction as the beam of his Venom Infusion struck her dead-on and the area around her blew as if a bomb had been dropped. The boy screamed; a sound of dismay that only fed his power.

It would have been lovely if the blast had destroyed her completely, but he wasn't expecting this much. The bitch was still alive, but now was lying broken and bloody in the freshly blown crater. The pure power from his attack had caused her to De-Digivolve back into the fox-creature that had first dared to step foot into his world.

For a second, the human froze solid in his tracks. VenomMyotismon didn't even think he breathed in that time, probably from the shock of seeing that she was still alive, but he overcame the fear, he ran towards her.

A wicked smile crossed his lips. If the human truly wanted to die at the same moment as his pet, then VenomMyotismon supposed he could be a benevolent enough god to grant this last wish.

The child raced over to the animal, who was feebly trying to push herself up off the ground, and dropped down to his knees. Without even a second of hesitation, he threw his arms around the fox's waist and pulled her body against his own, perhaps trying to give her enough support to left her to their feet.

VenomMyotismon wouldn't even give them the time to think about getting up.

He fired another rainbow-colored beam from his eyes. It ripped through the air like a speeding bullet, its colors dancing about in an insane waltz. Less then a second later; the fox and the human who had once been called 'The Lone Destined' was enveloped with his horrible, burning light and with this the last obstacle on his journey for the power he had always deserved was destroyed.

The Digital World and all worlds that lay beyond were now his to take.

**To be continued.**


	31. Chapter 30

**Chapter Thirty**

Andrew had heard a voice, but not the one that had spoken to Myotismon. That was a voice of darkness, of damnation, and if not of evil incarnate than most certainly of cruelty. It was that voice that speaks to everyone, coming from the darkest corners of their hearts when given the opportunity to do wrong. That voice was the one that whispered into open ears, convincing that the sins done were completely justified. In this realm of nothingness, the abstract idea of evil had birthed a physical form and called itself out to the blackest heart.

What Andrew heard, however, was something entirely different. In fact, to call it a voice at all would not be entirely correct. A voice would indicate that there was tone, pitch, even gender, but the boy heard none of these. It was almost as if a door had been opened; a door that had been hiding somewhere within the recesses of his mind for all of his life. This was an unremarkable in design; common, plain, easily ignorable, yet it was always kept locked and no amount of pressure could even cause the door to jiggle in its frame before now.

In that moment of Andrew's biggest distress, however, the lock had fallen off, the door had swung open, and all of the information that the young boy had never understood that he had known before came flooding out.

There was knowledge locked inside of his head that sat dormant, waiting for a day when the secrets it held would at last be of importance. That day had come. Andrew heard the voice of his Digivice, the unassuming little lump of plastic that had brought him into this mess what felt like a lifetime ago, guiding him every step of the way with gentle and invisible hands; and the things that it showed him where so new, yet at the same time; so very familiar.

The monster that now called itself VenomMyotismon rose out of the darkness. He was a massive creature that more closely resembled its original form than MaloMyotismon did, but the similarities were only cosmetic: humanoid with pale skin, blond hair, and same red mask that stuck out like horns, but now he looked more then ever like a demon; something that had escaped from Hell to walk upon the earth. Maybe this wasn't all that far from the truth.

The power that baked off of the beast felt endless and the very sight of it made Andrew want to flee; it's very presence an assault on all sanity. This was a being that would be present in his nightmares of many years to come, Andrew believed, assuming he lived long enough to ever dream again, that was.

Both Andrew and Taomon had taken several retreating steps away from the beast; a thing of such a massive size that he was only visible from the waist up. The rest of him was hidden from view by the ground the Tamer and Partner stood on. For a brief second, the boy wondered what exactly it was that VenomMyotismon was standing upon, but quickly decided he'd rather not know.

Taomon placed one large hand on the boy's chest and slowly pushing him back, not taking her eyes off the creature for a second as she did. Andrew didn't need to be asked twice and gladly fell back several more steps. Not that it really mattered. VenomMyotismon could have easily reached out and grabbed the boy even if he retreated to the very far end of their platform; he was so massive in scale.

Taomon, refusing to be intimidated, brought up the brush once more and used it to paint a symbol into the air exactly like the one before. At first the sequence of events that followed were similar; the symbol hung in midair and began to glow, then a powerful beam of blue energy fired from it and speed across the emptiness towards VenomMyotismon, but this was where the chain of continuity had broken.

Before, the attack had been strong enough to blow MaloMyotismon clear off of his feet, sending him tumbling down into the dark. Now, VenomMyotismon didn't move, didn't even flinch as the light came towards him, and Andrew knew that something terrible was about to happen.

He was right. The beam struck the giant dead in the chest without even leaving a scratch. Both Taomon and Andrew looked on, dumbfounded, as VenomMyotismon laughed. Now Andrew watched as the beast's eyes began to glow, and from them came beams of rainbow colored light of such intensity that the boy was unable to look directly at them.

Andrew would have never believed that something as innocent sounding as a rainbow could be perverted into a thing of twisted horror and revolution, yet VenomMyotismon found a way. The colors that warped through the beam were painfully bright, each one assaulting the child's eyes as if he were staring into the sun, and each pastel seemed to be violently fighting for dominance within its twisted spectrum, though the only winner that Andrew could see in that fight was black. Black was never a color that _he _had seen within a rainbow, yet within this void black seemed to be the only color that excited in force. It seeped into everything, corrupting what it touched the same way it corrupted the lands in Andrew's dreams. This tar was the very source of Myotismon's power. And it was everywhere.

Daring to steal a glace at the action unfolding before him, Andrew caught Taomon in mid-crouch, ready to use her powerful legs to propel her safely out of harms way, yet despite her speed she failed to move in time, and was struck.

A blast of heat, wind, and dust sent shockwaves out from the blast zone, nearly throwing the boy off of his feet causing Andrew to give out a short cry in surprise.

When the dust had cleared he saw that Taomon had De-Digivolved back into Renamon. The force of the attacked hadn't been enough to kill her outright, but it did take nearly all of her strength out of her, leaving the Renamon that was now sprawled out in the middle of a shallow, smoking crater looking like she had come out on the bad end of a car accident.

Her fur was charred and matted, deep cuts covered her body, and a small bit of blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. The physical pain she was in had to have been excruciating, beyond anything he wanted to even imagine, yet somehow the fox had managed to stay conscious. Even more amazing was that she was trying to fight her way to her feet.

Andrew instantly understood the grim situation they were in. Even if Renamon could stand, there was simply no way that she would be able to hold her ground against this new threat. Their fates looked sealed, and the remaining length of their lives was now in the hands of the red beast that towered before them. Andrew thought these revelations should have left him with a feeling of helpless and hopeless, yet... yet he still didn't want to give up. If he was going to die, as the overused cliché went, then he resolved that was going to die fighting.

_That_ was when the voice spoke and the knowledge broke free from its chains. The sudden rush of information had caused the boy to almost stumble with its sheer overwhelming force, as well as take in a sharp hiss of air through his teeth like he had just touched something extremely hot.

Taomon had been powerful, but much of her energy had been only hers alone, and even though she was still formidable in that form, the only chance they had against VenomMyotismon was if they stood together. Up until now, all Andrew thought he could do as a Tamer was to stand back, let Renamon do the fighting and lend her support when needed. There were times like little more then a manager for a prizefighter. He could pretend he had importance by wiping the sweat from her eyes and giving her water all he wanted, but in truth he was never the one in the ring. It was never really his life on the line. So far he had never really felt... useful. Now, however, he understood that all of that could change. He could give her all of his own power. He could fight.

Knowing that their time could likely be measured in seconds, Andrew ran across the ground towards Renamon, forcing his legs to pump harder and carry him faster than they should have been able. Later, his body might present its unhappiness with this sudden burst of adrenaline fueled speed with weeks of aches and pains, but that was an issue for later. Besides, the boy was looking forward to even _having_ a later. The soreness would have been a welcome reward.

Renamon had managed to push herself onto her hands and knees, but her limbs were badly shaking and wouldn't support her for much longer from the look of them. As he closed in, the boy could hear how haggard her breathing was.

Andrew dropped to his knees in front of Renamon and in the same fluid motion he helped her up to her into a kind of kneeling position before wrapping his arms around her and pulling the two of them together. In the instant before VenomMyotismon's Venom Infusion struck them both, the boy whispered one word; a word he had never heard before in his entire existence and yet somehow knew, and was it really so strange that he did? After all, it was the Elder himself that had once told them that he and Renamon had been marked for one another since birth.

Everything had been leading up to this one exact moment where the link between Tamer and Digimon would reach its climax and the future of the Digital World would either tip in the direction of light or darkness, and it all came down to one word.

As VenomMyotismon fired down upon them what he meant to be the killing blow, the word that Andrew whispered into Renamon's ear was Biomerge.

**O O O**

There had been a feeling, almost like a melting sensation, as a powerful white light enveloped the two, as the human known as Andrew and the Digimon called Renamon almost began to sink into one another. The experience was brief, but incredible and brought with it a sensation of such intense vigor to which neither had ever thought possible. Every single thing that made up Tamer Andrew and Partner Renamon joined together. They did no so much meld into one, as a link was drawn between them; a wire that stretched from one consciousness to another. Every memory, every thought and feeling, every fear and pleasure was shared between the two, but more importantly; every last drop of energy had been pooled into one massive force, and with this they-Tamer and Digimon-physically joined together to create something new.

They were human in design and female in shape, but such things as genders were irrelevant, really. It was a cosmetic vision that mattered no more than the golden armor they wore over a black and white cloth outfit. The armor was fox themed in style, even coming with two horns like ears sticking out of the top of their helmet and a belt buckle that looked a simple molding of a fox's head. Long, white hair flowed from the back of their head from underneath their helmeted skull. The symbol of Yin and Yang covered their body on shoulders, knees, hands, and feet. Quite appropriate really, since they were the creation of two things joining as one; together, but separate.

When they looked, it was with the same eyes. When they heard, it was with the same ears. When they spoke, it was with the same voice. They were two consciousnesses residing within the same host, each in perfect harmony with the other, each knowing and understanding what it was the other was thinking, feeling, and doing at all times. They were the most perfect blend of Tamer and Digimon. They were Sakuyamon.

The beast known as VenomMyotismon let out a bellowing scream of stupid, blind rage and swiped at them with one of its massive hands; meaning to snatch them up and crush them inside of its palm. The monster that had once seemed so fearsome, so unbelievably fast, now moved in slow motion letting them easily take to the air, avoiding the hand.

Seeing that he had missed, VenomMyotismon tried to catch them in mid-flight with his other palm. While they could not get any higher, Sakuyamon managed to grab on to the side of the beast's hand and vault over, nearly avoiding the closing fist that tried to squeeze them to pulp.

They fell to the ground with a graceful landing, ready for the next assault. In response VenomMyotismon was swung downwards with his fists as if he were attempting to squash a troublesome fly. His blows were powerful, each one shaking the ground and creating more craters in the already battle-torn landscape, but he was now also attacking in a very foolish and almost stupid way. In this form he may have accepted great power, but the cost had seemed to be much of his mind.

"Die!" he bellowed like a bratty child as she continued to try and crush them under his fists. "Why won't you just die?"

It was not their intention to spend all of their time in this new body just dodging the beast's attacks. They decided that it was their turn to go on the offensive. After allowing VenomMyotismon one more swing, Sakuyamon leaped back to the far side of the platform and summoned forth four spirits; each one containing its own element and each one in the shape of a fox. The first was fire; its fur a bright red. Flames burned around its feet and tail. The second was water and had blue fur that seemed to always be moving like waves around its body. The third was a yellow fox of lightning whose tail stuck out in one massive and jagged spike. The fourth and final was air. Its physical form a pure white with trails of clouds seemed to puff around its paws in an unfelt breeze.

The four spirits immediately rushed towards their target; one of them actually running up the arm VenomMyotismon still had pressed against the ground with the others made their way to the edge and leapt towards the beast's chest. The fox spirits madly raced around his body; clawing, scratching, biting; their strikes small, but devastating. VenomMyotismon howled as he swung at the creatures, trying the knock them from his body.

"Give up, beast," Sakuyamon ordered, their voice an odd, but commanding mixture of Andrew's and Renamon's synced into perfect harmony. "You have already lost this battle."

"Never," he cried; his response not unexpected. With a hard jerk of his body, VenomMyotismon released a blast of dark energy that threw the fox spirits from him, each vanishing out of existence as they fell. "You are nothing compared to me! I am darkness! I _am _death! This world will fall and you shall be the first to fall with it!"

VenomMyotismon's eyes lit up and he fired those beautiful, horrible beams of energy from them. Sakuyamon raised their hand against the blow; arm out and fingers displayed. When the beam struck, the blow was fierce and hot, but not crippling as it had once been before. They were able to hold their ground so far, but VenomMyotismon was not letting up. He continued to force the beam down upon them, trying to crush them with brute strength, and it was starting to work.

With each passing moment the energy they held back against seemed to gain weight, taking more and more of their own reserve to push against it. They had trapped themselves. If they tried to run, they would have to let up on their defense and risk destruction. If they stayed here under the constant presser of the beast's attack, then eventually their power would weaken enough for VenomMyotismon to break though, crushing them both under his power.

VenomMyotismon, they saw, was drawing his energy directly from the living darkness around him. It flowed into his body like water through a drain; constantly feeding him, energizing him, allowing him to continue his assault without pause.

_He'll never stop,_ the Renamon part of them thought.

_We need more power,_ replied the Andrew part.

They brought up their other hand and threw their shoulder against the beams, but it was becoming like trying to push back a tank. Together, their closed their eyes, cleared their minds. They needed to act, to turn the tides. They needed the allies Myotismon claimed abandoned them.

_We can not do this alone,_ they prayed._ Please, lend us your strength. We need your help._

Their call went out across the void.

**O O O**

The Daycare had been in terrible shape when they had arrived. Only a handful of the buildings still stood and those that did were badly damaged by a fire that none of them could quite remember. A lot of that day was still very fuzzy in Lopmon's mind. Want she could remember everything had began normal enough; the air was warm and the sky was blue with hardly a cloud to mar its vast color. Lopmon was making her way to the mess hall. She had just finished some very extensive training that had gone an hour over her normal schedule and now she was starving.

Food had been the sole thing on her mind when, all of a sudden, there was screaming followed by an explosion. Digimon were running in all directions, Lopmon tried to stop one, to ask what was going on, but was knocked to the ground instead. For several minutes she laid there dazed, the blow had forced the wind out of her small lungs and she had to work to get it back. Also, she was trying to keep herself from crying.

_I will not cry again,_ she told herself. _Not now. I will not be a crybaby. I won't, I won't, I won't!_

She forced her body back on its feet, wavered as a flash of light headedness came over her for a second, and then she straightened up. That was when she felt a presence behind her. She turned around to see Gotsumon standing there. She felt only a brief moment of relief before she noticed something was wrong; his eyes were dull and glazed over. He seemed to be look at her, but at the same time not really _seeing_ her. That was when she saw the black collar around his neck and the second on he held in his hands. She had never seen him wear anything of the like before and there was something about it that scared her a little, but she couldn't say exactly why.

"Gotsumon? Are you oka-" That was as far as she got before he reached out and snapped the collar around her neck. There was a moment of piercing white inside her skull, and then there was nothing.

When she woke up, her body ached, her legs were sore, and she stomach was screaming for food. She was also standing in the middle of a strange place that she had never seen before and the last person she ever expected to meet again was there before her. She was weak and tired, but she still wanted to help. She needed to fix the wrongs that had been done.

It had taken forever to locate and free all of the slaves, and Lopmon could feel her body trying to give out from hunger, but she fought through it. She wasn't going to be a crybaby. She was going to work through the pain. She was going to be strong.

By the time they had finished, Renamon was gone, but someone new was waiting for them. Even though Lopmon had never seen this strange looking man before, she felt immediate comfort from him. The young man introduced himself as 'The Elder' and explained that he was going to take them someplace safe for awhile where they could rest up and get something to eat. Lopmon thought those last few words were the most beautiful things she had ever heard.

They had stayed with the Elder for awhile, and were grateful for his hospitality, but they all felt a need to go back to the Daycare, to their home. What they found when they arrived was a disaster, and many were devastated by the destruction. It had Lopmon who had rallied them, surprisingly enough. Over the last few days she found a previously undiscovered well of strength inside of her, and as upset as she was and as angry as she was, she was determined to see their home rebuilt, and for the past several weeks that was what they had been doing. The work was slow and would take a good long time, but they would finish. They would have their home again someday.

_Renamon would be a big help if she were here_, she thought_._ Lopmon didn't know where that had come from, but she suddenly found herself remembering the raw determination that the woman had always had even before she Digivolved. While she was never a friendly Digimon, she was never mean either. There were even times when she was actually helpful.

One memory stuck out in her mind. It had been a long time ago, back when Lopmon was known only as the crybaby. She had brought her lunch outside. The day had been warm and beautiful and she wanted to eat underneath the clouds, when Impmon and two of his friends came up to her. They were bullies to everyone, but seemed to enjoy tormenting her the most. They took her food and taunted her until she started to cry, then laughed at her for it. That was when Viximon had shown up. She ordered Impmon to drop the food. When he wouldn't, she head-butted him right in the gut. Impmon keeled over on the ground while his friends ran off. Moving gently, Viximon picked up Lopmon's food in her mouth, carried it over, and dropped it before her.

"You'll never get anywhere if you let others walk all over you," she had said. "Stand up for yourself or spend the rest of your life being miserable." And with that parted wisdom spoken, she walked away.

Not friendly, but not mean, either. That was Renamon. Now she found herself wondering about the fox, where she was, what she was going.

_I hope you're still strong,_ Lopmon thought. _Whatever you're going, I hope that you're staying strong._

With that little prayer said, Lopmon started to head towards the one of the bunkhouses that had caved in. They were trying to salvage any usable wood from it to build a new one. It was a long, slow process, but they would get it done. One day, The Daycare would stand again.

**O O O**

Whamon awoke from a terrible dream, or maybe this was more like a memory. It was several years ago when there had been a severe storm that revenged the area he lived. He had fought against it as best he could, trying to get to calmer waters, but a massive wave had gotten the best of him and threw him upon the shore. For hours even after the storm passed he tried to fight his way back into the water, but could mange only a foot or so closer. At some point he had passed out from exhaustion and the baking sun. When he awoke there was a fox-girl standing before him, arms crossed under the fur of her chest; her face a tiny mixture of concern and amusement.

"You look like you're in a bad way," she said.

"Yes," Whamon had responded, sounding as tired as he felt. "Please. Help."

The fox looked at him up and down. "I can try."

The fox pushed while Whamon tried to move himself back into the water, but his fins only dug further into the dry sand. He was stuck.

"This isn't working," she said, walking around Whamon as if inspecting him. "Turn to your side."

"What?" Whamon asked, not sure he understood her right. As it was his tail was just barely touching the sweet, cool ocean water. If he were to turn, then he would be completely on land.

"Trust me," she said. "Do you really have anything to lose?"

Supposing that he didn't, he tried to turn his body. The massive walls of sand he had dug up now aided him as a brace for which he used to rotate himself. Even his tail helped him twist his body until it was running parallel to the water's edge.

Now turning around, the fox bent down on her legs, reached under his body, and tried to pull up.

"Roll," she commanded, and roll Whamon did. At first it looked like he wouldn't be able to move much, but then momentum began to kick in and he was building speed and taking ground. Seconds later, he felt the splash of cold water covering his body and be splashed into the familiar aquatic depths of the ocean.

"Thank you," he called out to the fox. "Thank you, my friend!"

"Don't worry about it," she answered, waving the sentiment off as she turned to leave.

"Wait, what is your name?" Whamon asked.

"Renamon," she called back.

"Please wait right here, Renamon. I have something to give you!"

Without waiting for a reply, he dove under the water, searching for something that he wasn't sure he would find, or that the fox would still be waiting around to accept. Luckily, he did find what he wanted in short order and Renamon was still waiting, though she appeared annoyed for the hold up.

Back up on the surface, Whamon spat out a large conge shell that landed at the fox's feet.

"What's this for?" she asked dubiously, picking it up.

"It's a signal," he explained. "If you ever need me, blow this and I will hear it and come. I don't know if I can ever repay you for your kindness, but I intend to try."

It was many years before he saw the fox again, long enough for the large whale to almost forget her, but come back she did and with a strange friend in tow. Her request was an odd one, but he did what he could for her, none the less. Even if she did seem very upset by whatever it was she was going to on the island.

Despite all of this, Whamon still didn't feel like he had quite repaid his debt just yet, and he was a Digimon who always paid what he owed.

_Stay safe my friend,_ he thought in his still drowsy state. _Stay safe and one day return so that I may do more to honor my promise. _

Whamon closed his eyes and a minute later was back asleep. His dreams this time were now as calm and sweet as the ocean around him.

**O O O**

A Trailmon lay derailed at the bottom of a canyon; badly broken and beat, yet at peace. His final thoughts before passing into the waiting darkness were of the joy that had been brought to him by the lil' cowpoke and his purty young friend. He wished them all the luck in the world with fightin' whatever kind of rattlesnake was waitin' for em at the end of their long, dusty road.

A smile touched his face, and then he thought no more.

**O O O**

The last few days had been pure ecstasy for the Professor. He had never gotten the chance to work with such large samples of digimite before, and the experiments he was running now were yielding some surprising results, but not without giving him a fight for every last one of them.

Yes, he had worked with a few flakes of the stuff as they shed from the cavern ceiling over the years, but it had been against his ethics to remove a single piece for himself. The Koemon relied too heavily on the digimite to provide them with their heat and light. It had been maddening, for course, to be so close to something so incredibly precious and mysterious without being able to study it, but he had held to his moral code. Even when the pieces had fallen on their own from the battle, Clayton wasn't sure if it was right to take them, but the Koemon, bless their generous hearts, had all agreed that if he thought he could do good with them, then Clayton was welcome to all of the fallen digimite he wanted.

Ever since that day he had been working around the clock on his studies. Not since his years as an undergrad had he been so completely enthralled in his work. So much so, that he sometimes forgot to eat or sleep and his assistant Koemon would have to remind him to take care of himself; sometimes gently, sometimes with force.

The damage to the village had been superficial. One home had been destroyed along with one building that was basically a storage shed. Within two days the home had been rebuild and the family moved back in.

The battle which caused the damage was still the talk of the town. A monument to their victory, as well as to the Digimon and human that won it was being built in the middle of the village out of stone. Songs were sung about the battle, some serious, some comical; and the children would often re-enact the fight in their play, often arguing about who got to be Renamon and who had to be Minotarumon or the 'bad-woman'. The child who ended up being the 'bad-woman' almost always ended up getting pelted with some piece of foodstuff or another, much to the dismay of that child's parents.

It was all an uplifting display of defiance in the face of adversity, but Clayton never once fooled himself about how close they had come to oblivion. And in the end, it had really been the child; Andrew, that inspired him to rally the Koemon and return to defend what was theirs. The boy had to have been half his own age at least and yet he was more of a man then Clayton ever was. He admired that strength, envied it even. On that day, Clayton thought he had taken a good first step to reaching his own courage, but there was still much to go. It would be a hard road to travel, but one he was happy to take.

Now, in his lab, Clayton put down the notes he had been so furiously writing, and bowed his head. He had always found the idea of things like religion to be ridicules and he was in no way a spiritual man, but in that moment he felt almost an overpowering need to pray for the safety of Andrew and Renamon. They stood as the only defense against an evil beyond even his comprehension. He didn't need to run the numbers to know that the odds of survival were slim, the boy seemed to understand this perfectly well, but still they fought, and for that Clayton admired them and wished them all of the power, strength, and more importantly; intelligence that they would need to see their journey through safely.

The Professor then raised his head and went back to work. There were still so many tests he needed to run before the day was out.

**O O O**

Jijimon stopped, and threw a glance over his shoulder. They had taken all they could carry from their home, loaded up on their backs, and headed south several days ago. The darkness had simply become too much of a weight on their minds and it was time to move on. Even if it were destroyed the memory of it would always mar the original beauty of this home and, while it was always sad to leave, the time had come to move on.

The nightmares hadn't stopped, but they had slowed, almost like they had lost a lot of their power. This was good, but it did not mean all things were well. There was still so much ahead and so many risks that would either bring them all a great reward or complete destruction.

Jijimon felt a hand rest on his shoulder. He turned around to see him wife standing before him, a soft and comforting smile on her face.

"It's going to be alright," she said.

"I wasn't thinking about the house, Babamon."

"I know," she responded. Of course she knew, by this point Jijimon doubted there was anything he thought that his wife hadn't already known in some way, shape, or form. Most of the time it bugged the dickens out of him, but today he was thankful. He didn't have to carry his worries alone.

"It's going to be alright," she repeated. "I can feel it, too, but I know they'll survive."

"Would you mind if I... I stopped a moment? Say a few words for 'em?"

Babamon shook her head and told him to take all the time he needed, she would even join in if he wanted.

For a very long time the couple stood with their heads down and their eyes closed, praying that the darkness they felt would pass and that the two who stood against it would remain in its wake. No immediate answer came, but then again; one never did. Now all they could do was hope for the best and believe what their hearts wanted to believe; that everything would be okay.

Jijimon looked up at his wife of countless years. A moment later, he wrapped his arms around her neck and held her close.

"I love you, woman," he said.

"And I love you, ya' old coot," she replied as she hugged him back, "even if I sometimes don't know why."

"And just what's that supposed to mean," he said, backing up from her.

"Oh I think you know darn well, ya' fool,"

Together, they made their way further down their own path, lovingly arguing the entire way.

**O O O**

It had been a busy day at the resort hotel and Rosemon was happy to retreat to the calm tranquility of her office with its dim lights, cream colored walls, and dusty-rose colored carpet; it was, ironically enough, the one place in her resort she could really relax.

There was a pile of paperwork on her desk, but she pushed it aside, not wanting to look at it. Right now, she planned on taking a few minutes to herself so that she could catch her breath and calm down. After all, stress was bad for the skin.

Two of her girls had called in ill that day and she could find no one to cover their shifts so Rosemon rolled up her sleeves (so to speak) and jumped in to take their place. She might have been a vain woman, but that didn't mean she didn't understand the meaning of a hard day's work. The girls, however, were still going to get an earful when they came back in. She would make sure of that.

As she relaxed in her chair, Rosemon's eyes happened upon a photograph that had been sitting there for years now. It was of herself and her old friend LadyDevimon, the only other woman in the world that understood beauty in the same way she did.

Rosemon reached out and picked up the photo, a faint smile touching her lips as she remembered that day; the one where they had gone on vacation together. She had tried so hard into talking LadyDevimon into getting some sun for her pale skin, but the woman refused. She was always so hard-headed.

"We had some good times," she said to herself, not really understanding the deep sadness that was coming over her. For some reason she could not place, she had the undeniable feeling that she would never see her friend again. Though she tried to tell herself that such thoughts were nonsense caused by her over-exerted and tired mind, her protests rang hollow.

"I hope those friends of yours aren't getting you in too much trouble, and you're all looking out for each other."

She could only hope that they were and that they were safe. Like she had said; it could get ugly out there.

**O O O**

For the first time in almost fourteen years Julia Roth wasn't wearing makeup. Even on the days she was planning on staying home she would at least apply a little foundation to her skin to keep it looking nice. Now, though, there just didn't seem to be a point. Her husband was gone, her son was gone, and she was completely alone.

She had received dozens of phone calls from friends and family, neighbors had stopped by the visit, letters from people she had never even met arrived at her door. No matter who was talking to her or how they all wanted to know if she was okay, and she always said that she was holding up.

This was a lie. She wasn't holding up at all. She was breaking down, if anything. Her house was now so empty and quiet without her boys in it. She knew she wasn't being fair to her son by taking out her anger at losing the love of her life out on him, and if she could somehow take back every single word, she would. If there was anything she could do to bring her boy home, then she would do it.

Tears began to roll down her face again, fat and salty. She had long since stopped trying to fight them. They splashed onto the frame of the picture she held in her hands; it was of Andrew, Robert, and herself. Robert was in the middle, one arm around her shoulders, the other resting on one of their sons. All three were smiling. They looked so happy, so innocent. Had there ever really been such a time in her life when she felt as carefree as she looked in that picture? It was hard to imagine now.

They were at the park having a picnic on that day. It had been Robert's idea, one of those spur-of-the-moment things that he was always pulling. Still, it sounded like a wonderful plan, so they make a quick lunch and strolled down to Blackburn. At the last second Julia remembered to grab the camera, thinking she could take some lovely pictures while they were out. She ended up capturing the last photograph they had ever taken all together. Several months later the smiling middle aged man in the picture would be gone. Then everything would go so wrong.

The police had found nothing of her son. Reports had gone out, several local stations were running the story of the missing boy, and a surprising number of volunteers had stepped forward to help in the search. People might always make jokes about people in the city not caring about anyone other than themselves, but these were people who really did know how to pull together. Julia had been deeply touched.

The officers she spoke to kept reassuring her that they would find her boy, alive, and bring him home, but Julia had always heard that if a missing person wasn't found within the first day, they were rarely found at all. At least, not breathing.

Still, Julia refused to give up hope; refused to believe that something could have happened to her son. Andrew might have been a handful, but he had always been resourceful. He had to be alright. He just had to be.

"Please," she begged the empty room, the sound of her own voice startling her a little. She had no idea who she was speaking to, if it was supposed to be God or if she had finally gone off the deep end and was blubbering to herself in the dark. "Please bring my baby home. Please bring him back to me. I love him so much. Please. Please."

Julia Roth, widower, pressed the picture against her face and wept into it. If she had been wearing makeup, it would have been running down her face in rivers.

**O O O**

The pressure began to stabilize, and then ease. Gradually, they were able to fight back against it. Near the end, they had almost been forced down on the ground, but then they felt the energy pouring into them, filling them with its glow. VenomMyotismon seemed to feel this shift, too.

"No," he screamed and tried to push harder with his attack, but it was too late. Sakuyamon was now standing once more, pushing against the deadly beams of multi-colored light. With one loud cry of defiance, they made a final assault against the force. The Venom Infusion shattered into tiny bits of data that trailed off into nothing.

"Impossible," VenomMyotismon was screaming again. "You can't! You can not! I am your lord! I am your god!"

"You are _nothing_," they cried, their words causing the beast's hard glare to flinch. "You are a mistake. You are a blight upon all of existence that needs to be purged. You are a cancer that affects us all. You have lived far too long, Myotismon. Your time has come to an end."

With a mindless scream, the demon's eye began to glow. He was readying himself to assault them once more. This time, they would not allow him to. They raised their hand, pointing towards the beast, summoning all of the energy they had been granted by all of those from across two separate worlds and uncountable miles.

A powerful breeze began to blow. With hurricane force the wind pressed against VenomMyotismon brining with it a shower of thousands upon thousands of tiny purple shards that whipped harmlessly around Sakuyamon. The effect on VenomMyotismon, however, was far less pleasant.

They sliced into his skin lacerating his face, arms, neck, and chest. With each new wound, a beam of white light would fire out of it. The beast let loose a blood curetting scream that seemed to fill the darkness as he tried to back away, but there was no escape and Sakuyamon felt no pity for the beast.

They watched as chest filled with holes, as one arm was sliced so badly it had simply cease to exist, as a series of shards cut into his face and popped one eyeball open like a balloon.

Just before bursting into pure light VenomMyotismon screamed: "I'll be back! I always come back!"

"No," they promised. "You will not."

With another almost casual gesture of the hand, they created a circle of golden light that enveloped around the glowing code. It was of an incredible size to contain it all, but soon it was beginning to shrink. With each second that passed it grew smaller. Now it was no bigger than a beach ball; now a basketball, now a golf ball, now a marble. A moment later, that sphere of golden yellow light in which held all of Myotismon's corrupt, evil, and soulless data blinked out of existence taking with it one of the worst evils the Digital World had ever know.

One of the worst, but not the last.

The ground began to shake with a low rumble as bits and pieces of the land they stood on began to break off and fall into the blackness. They didn't know if it was the destruction of Myotismon's evil that was bringing this place apart, or if it had simply become too damaged to stand any longer, but whatever the case they needed to move. Now.

The gateway that they had entered from had vanished shortly after they arrived in this space between worlds, but this didn't matter. They had their own way out.

The part of them that was Andrew produced the ragged piece of digimite that they had been saving for this moment, but before they could use it they needed to pick a destination; a place to go. They both could think of only one place they wanted to be.

The gateway opened up and the digimite shattered in Andrew's hands, its usefulness fulfilled. They raced towards their exit, the ground now little more then a few ragged pieces they needed to jump between. Very soon, the last bits would fall and take anything standing upon it down with them. Feeling the edge of darkness licking at their heels, Sakuyamon leapt through one end of the portal...

**O O O**

...and Renamon and Andrew tumbled out the other side just as the gateway sealed for good. Their fall was cushioned by the soft grass of a forest that both Tamer and Digimon knew very well. After all, this was the same place they had first met.

Renamon pushed herself up onto her knees. Her body was a little sore, but that was the worst of it. Otherwise most of the injuries she had suffered had healed themselves after De-Digivolving from her Mega form. Renamon had to admit, though, she was sad to see that body go. The power she had felt had been beyond even her imagination. Of course, much of it had to do with the boy who had lent her every last drop of his own soul and then some. And speaking of which...

Andrew was picking himself off the ground beside her. He looked around them for a minute as if he wasn't quite sure where he was, or maybe he was simply trying to make absolutely sure that this was real.

His eyes met hers and for a minute neither one knew what to say to the other. In the end, like always, it was the boy that broke the ice for both of them.

"We won," he said in a whisper, almost as if it were some big secret. "We... we won."

A smile crossed the boy's face and he began to chuckle, but soon that turned into full on laughter, and against her will Renamon felt herself laughing as well. She had always liked to at least try and keep a calm outer appearance, but she simply felt too damn _good_ to hold it in.

She reached out, threw her arms around the boy, and pulled him in close while the two of them just laughed like lunatics. Anyone passing by would have probably thought that they _were_ mad.

_We did it,_ her mind cried. _We did it! We won! We're alive!_

For several minutes they stayed like that; they would laugh, start to calm down, but would then make the mistake of looking at one another and the laughter would start up again. Eventually they had both fallen to the ground, holding their aching sides and looking up at the bright blue sky until they had finally had control of themselves again.

After awhile of just staring up at the soft blue sky over their heads, they dared to look at one another. They were both still smiling, but the worst had passed and they were composed once more. There was still humor in the boy's eyes, she saw, but now there was something else. Something much deeper.

He had said to her before they headed off towards an uncertain future, that if she wanted to talk they would, but only after it was over. Now it was, but… Renamon found they didn't need to talk. As Sakuyamon they had been two separate minds inside of one body, but their thoughts and feelings were free to flow from one to the other... and they knew. All of those things they've been thinking for so long, but didn't know how to say, all of the thoughts they had been too _scared_ to speak of, were now all out. He knew how she felt just as she knew how he did.

Reaching over, Renamon placed a hand on the side of the boy face; her fingers in his hair and her thumb caressing his cheek. In turn, Andrew closed his eyes and brought his hand to rest on top of her own.

His caress filled her heart until she thought it would burst. She ached for him; for his touch, his scent, his taste. There was much that they... could not do. They both knew this all too well, but at the same time they didn't care. They wanted each other, maybe even needed each other. As long as they could be close, all of the limitations failed to matter.

Removing her hand from his cheek, not without great effort, and placing it on the ground next to him, Renamon leaned over until she had positioned her face a few inches above the boy's. They smiled at one another, their eyes gazing deep into the other's as Andrew reached up and cupped a hand around the back of her head. Slowly, he started to pull her down towards him and Renamon happily allowed herself to be lead.

Their eyes closed, their faces less than an inch apart with Andrew's tilted slightly to the left and Renamon's slightly to the right. They leaned in, meaning to express their feelings the only way the young knew how.

What stopped them was the sound of someone standing behind them, clearing their throat.

Their eyes flew open and they both flew to their feet like their hair was on fire. Renamon spun around, ready to kick the ass of whoever had just ruined her perfect moment (as well as kicking herself for not hearing anyone approach, but when she was around the boy it was so easy to forget about the world) Renamon caught sight of the one person she knew she'd never be able to lay a finger on, no matter how badly she wanted to at times: The Digital Elder.

"Sorry if I startled you," he said in that good-natured tone that made the fox want to pop him one more than ever. "I didn't know I was interrupting anything so, um, personal." Despite his apology, the man made no effort to leave. "I just wanted to give you both my congratulations. There is no way I or anyone else in this world could ever repay you for the things you've done here. I have to admit, I was worried, but I never once doubted either of you."

"So... is it over?_ Really _over," the boy had asked, daring to sound hopeful.

"For you, my young friend, yes. There's still much that needs to be done, of course, but your time to rest has come. I'm not sure when the Final Destined will be called, but I do know is that you've tipped the balance in our favor greater than I ever dared hoped. Never doubt the importance of what you've done here today, either of you."

"Yes, thank you," Renamon said, tying to hurry the man along. "We're very happy you've come by and all, but we're kinda in the middle of something here, so if you wouldn't mind-"

"Oh! That reminds me," the Elder cut in, making Renamon grind her teeth. He reached behind his back, and a moment later brought forth a large solid black Digiegg, which he gently placed into the boy's hands. "I wanted to show you this."

For a moment, Andrew only looked at the egg. This face was filled with an emotion that looked like it wanted to be hope, but was too afraid to completely bloom.

"Is... is this..." Andrew swallowed hard, shook his head as if to clear it, and then tried again. "Is this her?"

The Elder nodded. "Everyone deserves a second chance, correct?" he winked "I think she's earned hers. Maybe this time, with a little guidance, she'll be able to make some better decisions."

He reached out for the egg, which Andrew reluctantly handed back over. His face tightened up, and for a moment Renamon thought the boy was going to cry, but he quickly seemed to get under control again.

"Thank you," he croaked, not quite able to look him in the eye. "Thank you so much."

"I'm not the one you need to be thanking, but I'll pass it along if I can." The smile then suddenly faded from the Elder's face, something Renamon didn't think would ever happen, and what replaced it was a look of such solemn grief that the fox's heart started to sink.

"Now," he said, "we've come to the... unpleasant part of my visit. I'm afraid I have to be the barer of bad news."

Renamon moved closer to the boy, meaning to ask just what the man thought he was talking about, but before she could do more than open her mouth, the boy spoke up. All of the humor and happiness were gone from his voice now and replacing them was unadulterated fear mixed with grief.

"No," Andrew protested, seeming to understand what was about to be said even if she didn't. "No. Not yet. You can't!"

"I'm sorry," the Elder sighed, dropping his head slightly. "I truly am."

Now Renamon was the one to speak up. "What? What is it?" she asked, looking from one person to the other, trying to grasp on what monstrosity awaited then _now_.

Andrew turned to face her, this time his eyes really were welling up with tears. "Renamon," he said. "He's going to make me leave."

"Like hell," she snapped, stepping between Andrew and the Elder as every muscle in her body tensed. "Don't you dare. Don't you even fucking dare."

"Renamon, I-" he started, but she refused to even listen.

"No! You shut up!" she screamed into the Elder' face, refusing to give up this beautiful gift she had found. "Andrew sacrificed everything, _everything_, to save this world; a world that he didn't even know existed until he was dragged here against his will! You put this child though hell and back and now that he's survived it all you just show up out of fucking nowhere and say 'well thanks for saving our lives, kindly leave now'. You can't! It's _not fair_!"

By the end of her rant, Renamon's voice was going raw from her cries, tears were running down her own cheeks, and she was poking the man in the chest with one finger, not bothering to be mindful of her claw. When the Elder spoke, however, both his face and voice were filled with such honesty sympathy, that it hurt her to look at it.

"I'm sorry. Really, I am. Understand that if there was anything I could do, I would, but this is far out of my hands. The best I can give is a few minutes to say goodbye, but that's all."

"No," Renamon protested again, but her voice was small.

"Renamon, this isn't his world. You know that," he argued, the truth to his words only adding to her pain.

"I... I know, but…"

She felt a hand very tenderly touch her arm. Renamon turned around to see the boy looking up at her. His face was sad, but calm. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she dropped down to her knees and wrapped him up in her arms one last time.

"Don't cry," he said. "You're supposed to be the strong one, remember? I'm the one that cries."

She snorted humorless laughter. "Screw that. You're the guy. You be the tough one."

"I'm never going to forget you. I promise," he breathed as he nuzzled his head against her cheek, the sensation sending bolts of pleasure down her spine even as her heart broke and bled in her chest. "And, who knows, maybe we'll get to see each other again. I mean, it's possible, right?"

"Yeah," Renamon answered, wanting to believe it herself. "Yeah, it's possible."

She felt Andrew's body waver in her arms, almost as if he was going to pass out. She pulled back slightly to see that the boy's eyes were closed and he was holding one hand to his forehead like it hurt. All of this, however, took a back seat to the real problem; Andrew was starting to fade. She could see right though him like he was a ghost, and he was quickly growing more transparent. He opened his eyes and looked at her. When he spoke, he voice sounded like it was coming from miles away.

"Renamon," he cried. "I love..."

Andrew Roth, her friend and her Tamer, faded away. And once again, Renamon was alone.

**O O O**

The first thing he was aware of was how cold and hard the ground was. The next thing that his slowly awaking senses were picking up was the noise: cars driving by, the honking of horns, the sound of people's footsteps and voices, from somewhere close by he heard a guitar playing what sounded like _'Hey Jude'_.

Moving slowly, Andrew picked himself off the ground with all the grace and care of a ninety-year-old with a massive hangover. Opening his eyes, the boy saw that he had woken up in an alley, to be precise; it was the exact same alley he had stepped into what felt like a lifetime ago to just get a few minutes to himself.

Andrew took in a deep breath, and then let it out in a series of deep, violent hacks. Hew had forgotten how thick the air was here. It reeked of smoke. How in the hell did he ever breathe this stuff? His time in the Digital World had weakened his immune system to the smog, it seemed.

Suddenly remembering where he had been and everything that had happened, Andrew reached into his pockets, nearly positive that thing he was looking for would be gone. It wasn't. After only a second of searching Andrew pulled his Digivice out of his pocket and held it before his eyes. When he had first found it lying forgotten in this alley the thing had been little more then an empty piece of plastic, but over time it had grown a life of its own and even a voice. It was the thing that had taken him to the Digital World, as well as brought him back, he was sure of that, and if it could work once...

But no. Andrew knew it from the moment he touched it. Whatever power had flowed into the device was gone now and it had returned to being the same as when Andrew first saw it: plastic. Nothing more.

Andrew leaned against the brick wall that stood at his back, lowered his head, and began to sob. It lasted only for a minute, but it needed to be done. The boy needed to cry because he had finally returned to a home he thought he would never see again. He needed to cry because he had left a home that he _knew_ he could never return to. Mostly, it just felt good to cry. It just felt good.

'_Hey Jude'_ had given away to _'Love Me Do'_ and then to _'Yesterday'_ before Andrew finally felt he had the strength to push himself off from the wall. He still had to head home and let his mother know he was alive, something he had wanted to do since he first left this world. It wouldn't be right to make her worry any more than he already had.

As the boy stepped out of the alleyway and onto the streets of his own city for the first time in what felt like forever, Andrew saw where the music was coming from: a man in his thirties or so with long blond hair and pink-tinted sunglasses sat on a bench not too far away from the alley's mouth. The music he heard was coming from the man's acoustic guitar whose case was lying open in front of him. As the boy approached he saw a couple bucks and a lot of change resting inside.

"Sup little dude," the aging hipster had greeted. "If you dig the tunes why not drop in a few cents. All proceeds go to keeping me fed. I'll even let you make a request."

"I don't have any money," he responded honestly.

"I hear that. No worries, though." Just then a man in a business suit walked by. As he passed the two he reached into his pocket a dumped a few quarters into the case without breaking his stride. "Thanks a lot, dude," the hipster called before turning back to the boy. "You see? The universe provides."

"Yeah. I guess it does."

"Tell you what, little dude, since Suits there was in such a hurry, why don't you take his request for him, eh?" the would-be rocker offered in good humor.

Andrew offered a small, but tired smile and shook his head. "Afraid I don't know what to ask for."

"You gotta get in touch with the classics, my man. Too much corporate bubblegum pop on the radio these days. We all need to get in touch with a time when music was real, you know?"

Andrew, not really knowing how to respond, just nodded.

The hipster laughed. "This kid gets it! Tell you what, I'll play you one of my own favorites; _'Hard Day's Night'._ Fuckin' everybody loves that song, man; fuckin' _everybody_.

The man's finger started to play and, despite his gruff and shaggy appearance, his voice was strangely sweet. For a minute, Andrew just stood there on the sidewalk, taking in the sights, sounds, and smells while the man serenaded a passing masses with his six-string. He knew that he needed to go, but he just wanted to soak it all in for a minute. He was home; a place of sanity and familiarity. A place with its own dangers, but at least they were ones he could understand. Everything about it, even the thick smog-filled air that it seemed only he could smell had its charm.

There was a newspaper sitting by the hipster on the bench. Andrew had glazed right over it before, but now that he really too a moment to look at it, he couldn't take his eyes off of it. It was the date at the top. It didn't seem right. The boy picked it up; needing to get a closer look to make sure his eyes weren't fooling him.

"Hey, is this today's paper?" he asked. The hipster's fingers never missed a string as he looked over and nodded.

"Yep," he said, no longer singing the song that everybody loved (_fuckin' everybody_) but still playing the cords. "Grabbed that about two hours ago when I went to get some go-juice. My friends would skin me if they knew I was givin' my cash to one of those big corporate coffee-huts, but I'll be damned if they don't brew a mean cup there."

"Thank you," the boy said as he dropped the paper back down on the bench. "I-I need to go. I have to get home."

"Stay cool, little dude," the hipster called as the boy began to run down the sidewalk, but Andrew didn't hear him. In his head he kept thinking of how that date could not have been right. It just couldn't. While he hadn't been able keep a perfect chart of time, he had been gone for weeks. This he knew for a fact; it had been several _weeks_. The newspaper, however,_ today's_ newspaper told him different. It told him that Andrew had been gone just four _days_.

**O O O**

He had run full sprint all the way home and now stood panting just outside his own driveway. The garage door was open and his mother's car was still in it. As badly as he wanted to go in, for the moment he felt glued to that spot. The boy kept thinking; what if his nightmare had turned out to be true? What if he walked into that door and found that his mother had... done something bad to herself, because of him. What would he do?

The boy took a deep breath, knowing that the only way to find out was to look. Steeling himself for whatever might come, Andrew forced himself down the driveway and up to the front door which, thankfully, was not locked. He didn't have the key.

Once inside there was a silence that disturbed him to his core as every possible horrid scenario flashed through his mind. But then Andrew heard movement from the kitchen; the sounds of a chair sliding back on the linoleum floor, of footsteps crossing the room, of someone trying to sniffle back tears, and then his mother walked into sight, her body jerking to a hard stop as she saw her boy standing there. Whoever she had been expecting, the last person on earth must have been him. She was holding something in her right hand. It looked like a picture frame.

For a long time they just stood there, the only sound coming from the ticking of the living room clock. She looked terrible; her eyes were red and puffy, she had no makeup on, and her hair was lying loose and limp around her face. Of course Andrew, with his dirty hair, torn cloths, and dozens of cuts couldn't have looked much better.

"M-mom," he managed through a suddenly very try throat.

"Andrew?" she asked back, sounding like she was in as much disbelief as he was. Finally, her paralysis broke first and she went running across the hall to him, dropping the picture as she went. Andrew started to run too, and they met a little over halfway, her arms instantly around his body and her lips covering his dirty face in kisses.

"Oh, Andrew! Oh, my baby! Oh, my sweet little boy! Are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened?"

The boy knew he should have been expecting these questions, but he hadn't thought about it. Up until now all he could think about was getting home and making sure she was safe, leaving him unsure of how to answer.

"I'm-I'm fine, mom. I'm okay," he settled for saying.

"Did somebody take you? Did they try and... and hurt you?"

"No, mom I... I just got lost. That's all. I'm back now. I'm okay."

It was a lame excuse, but it was the best he could do. Besides, it wasn't really all that much of a lie. He had been lost, but now he was back. That was really the most he could tell her without ending up in a padded room, he thought. Maybe at some point he would be able to give her a better explanation then that, but not now. Not today. He was too tired to be any more creative then that.

"Mom," he said, pushing himself away slightly so he could look her in the eye. She tensed for a moment as if she believed that if she let her grip loosen for then her son would disappear again. "Mom I... I don't want to fight anymore. Ever since dad died I… I'm sorry I was a terrible son," he sobbed, burying his face into her shoulder, his tears soaking the fabric of her shirt.

"Is that what you think?" she asked, her voice astonished. "Baby, you were never a bad son. Never. I wasn't being fair to you, I was being selfish._ I'm_ the one that should be sorry. We don't have to fight. Never again. Never _ever_ again."

"I love you, mom," he said.

"I love you, too, baby. I love you, too," Julia replied through her own tears.

For a very, very long time the two sat on the floor of the hall; holding one another and crying over the things that they had lost, the things they nearly lost, and the things they'd never allow to slip away again.

**To be concluded. **


	32. Epilogue

**Epilogue **

Over one year ago a very angry and confused child named Andrew Roth made his long trek down the streets of his city. At the time he had no real destination in mind, all he knew was that he needed to get out of his home and away from his mother. The boy needed a few minutes of peace so he could just clear his head and think.

While the boy might have thought he wasn't heading for any place special, destiny had other plans; leading him through the streets of the sprawling city and down a particular alley that, on any other day, would have remained as completely unremarkable as the thousands of others that populated the town he lived in. On this day, however, there was something that had been waiting for him, something that had been his all along and had been lying dormant until the time was right. When this young, angry, and confused child picked up his prize, he was taken to a world that very few had seen.

It was in this world that the boy had met a collection of incredible people, some of which he would even learn call 'friend'. He traveled across this world's oceans, through its forests, across its peaks, and into the very depths of its darkening heart. Though it all, the boy was sometimes confident, sometimes afraid. He had cheered his victories and mourned his defeats; he had gained friends and lost allies. The boy had played his part in the great tale that illustrated the adventures of a special group that spanned generations; a group known as the Digi-Destined.

Eventually this adventure, like all adventures, had to come to an end. With the dragon slain and peace brought back to the land, the boy; now not quite so young, no where near as angry, and no longer confused, was returned to the world he had been born, where he could begin fix the wrongs that had invaded his own life. And as much as he longed to return to the Digital World, he understood that his time was done. There was still his own human life ahead of it, filled with its own pitfalls, adventures, and treasures, though he found himself believing that they would be no where near as exciting as his short, but eventful trek across this alternate universe had been.

Sometimes, though, as this young man made his way through his normal life, he could not help but think that maybe his story wasn't done quite yet. Even a full year after he had said his fleeting goodbyes to the land he helped preserve, this assured feeling still rose up inside of him, and while a large part of him wanted to call it some kind of homesickness, there was another part, something deep inside of him, that still did not want to let go of the hope.

**O O O**

Andrew's mother would sometimes remark that he 'seemed different; more grow up somehow'. Andrew certainly felt more adult, anyway. There was no denying that his time in the Digital World had changed him. He had seen, and done, some pretty horrible things and sometimes there would be the nightmares he had known he was going to have, but he had come to believe that a few bad dreams were a small price to pay when compared to the things that he had learned and the friends that he had made.

Andrew had done a pretty good job coming out of his shell over the past fourteen months or so. People, he decided, weren't really as scary as he once thought they were. The boy had become more sociable in school, and even managed to make some friends in the deal. There were still a few bullies, of course, but even they no longer bothered the boy. After all; once you've stood in the path of ultimate evil it was kind of hard to take someone who wanted your lunch money seriously, and in time they lost interest and moved on to easier targets.

The fighting at home had stopped as well; something for which Andrew was forever grateful. He and his mother spent a long time after his return sitting next to one another and, for the first time since his departure, really talking the father and husband that they had lost. It was a very emotional conversation where they sometimes laughed and sometimes cried (and often from the same stories), but it was a talk that had long since been overdue. Neither mother nor child really blamed the other for what happened, nor did they hate the other one for it. They had both just been very upset and had taken their frustrations out on one another; from there the problem had just escalated. Now that they had spoken, now that all the thoughts and feelings had been put on the table, they felt a strange calm fall over them and both were finally ready to let the memory of Robert Roth rest.

Andrew's social life, his school life, and even his home life had all greatly improved. By all accounts the boy should have been happy. But he wasn't, not entirely.

The problem would usually come late at night while he was lying awake in his bed, starting up at the ceiling. That was when his mind would drift and he would start thinking about the adventure that he had had and the people that he had met, but most of all, he thought of Renamon.

Leaving her was the hardest thing he ever had to do and if he had been given the choice in that moment as the fox held him so tight in her arms, he almost certainly would have stayed. The feelings that he had for her grew stronger with each day they spent together. There had been so many times that he wanted to talk to her, to tell her the things that he felt, but when it came down to it, he just didn't have the courage. The boy had wondered so many times if these feeling were wrong, if they made him some kind of weirdo. Renamon wasn't human, hell; she didn't even really _look_ human, and yet... yet she was beautiful in her own way. She had come to mean more to him that anyone else in his life. He would have done anything for her, anything in the world.

The clock on Andrew's end table told him that it was a little after one in the morning. The boy sighed. He knew that he was going to be in for a very long night. At least it was the weekend and he wouldn't have to worry about trying to stay awake at school.

After a moment of debate, the boy tossed back the covers and got out of bed. If he was going to spend another night wide awake reliving the past, then he could do it downstairs plopped in front of the TV with a sandwich or something. No reason to lay here if he wasn't going to sleep.

As the boy walked by his dresser, he stopped for a moment. His Digivice was sitting on top. Even through it had long since gone dark and cold, Andrew still carried it with him everywhere he went. It had in a sense become his good luck charm and even now he held on to the hope that one day it might light up again. When it did, he wanted to be ready.

The boy picked up the small egg-shaped object and held it in the palm of his had. Just like before, it gave no hint of being anything other than a piece of useless plastic, but Andrew hadn't been expecting much, anyway. It was just nice to hold it every now and again to serve as a reminder that those things really did happen to him, that it hadn't been some kind of strange dream.

His mother had tried prodding him several more times to tell her exactly what had happened to him during the-

weeks

-days that he was gone. She had seemed to be convinced that someone had taken him and made him swear to never tell or else she would hurt the boy and/or his mother. Andrew had done his best to make her believe otherwise, but when she respond by asking what had really happened, then; the best the could do was say what he had already told her; had had gotten lost.

He couldn't tell her the truth. She would have believed that her son had gone insane. Hell, he had _lived_ it and even _he_ didn't always believe it was all true sometimes.

The boy decided that maybe he didn't want to sit in front of the TV all night after all. A ride on his bike suddenly sounded a lot better. The exercise and (somewhat) fresh air might do him some good, much more then junk food and late night cartoons would, anyway.

Taking the Digivice with him, Andrew crossed over to his hamper, stripped out of his pajamas, threw on the clothes he had worn that day (jeans and a t-shirt, of course), put on his socks and shoes, stuffed the device into his pocket and headed towards the door.

Moving as quietly as a thief, Andrew tiptoed down the hall and passed his mother's bedroom where she slept. He made his way downstairs, out into the garage, and towards his bike. Lifting the garage door up just high enough so that both he and his bike could slip under, Andrew couldn't help but think how his mom would flip if she caught him right now. For weeks after he had come home his mother refused to let the boy go anywhere on his own. Her paranoia was well justified, he supposed, but there came a point where he had to tell her to give him some space. He was going to be okay; she just had to trust him. He had been afraid that this would break the peace that had settled between them, but she had only sighed and said she didn't want to risk losing him again. Andrew had hugged her and promised that she never would.

Since then she had eased off quite a bit, but if she were to wake up and find him gone, she'd still have his head for it.

Andrew wasn't too worried. He didn't plan on being gone for more than a few minutes. He was just going to bike down towards the park, then probably loop around and come back. It would be a short trip to clear his mind and maybe tire him out enough to sleep; just a quick trip to the park and back, nothing more.

This was what he told himself all the way down, but once he had reached the place, the boy decided that it wouldn't be a big deal if he went inside for a few minutes. He could see the playground from here, so maybe he'd just sit on top of the plastic fort and look at the night sky. It was a beautiful night and dark enough to see some of the stars, even if it was no where near as sprawling as it had been in the Digital World.

So hopping off his bike, Andrew pushed it along the grass. Once he reached the playground, the boy propped it up against the swings and made his way to the fort. He hadn't actually played inside of here for years. After all, he was far too old for things like this, but the boy couldn't help but feel a little bit of adolescent glee as he climbed up the multi-colored metal bars. Maybe there were just certain simple pleasures that a person never really outgrew.

Plopping himself down on the edge of the platform and sticking his legs through the bars of the fence built around the sides to keep the kids from falling off, Andrew leaned back and looked up at the night sky. He found himself missing the skyline of the Digital World even more now, where there were no lights and no pollution to hide the stars above. Those nights he used to spend with Renamon sitting around their fire and eating whatever it was they could scrounge up that day; it wasn't always easy, but it had been wonderful in its own way. He thought he would have given almost anything to just go back there for one more day and share one more evening with his dearest friend.

Andrew leaned back all the way, placing his hands behind his head like a pillow. The boy closed his eyes and wondered where she was right now, what she was doing, and if she was happy.

"Renamon," he said to the night sky, "I miss you."

**O O O**

After Andrew had left, Renamon had done her best pick up the pieces of her life and go on like she had before. During the day she would train to keep her skills honed and sharp, during the evening she would collect her meals, and after supper she would lie in her bed and get some rest for the day ahead.

This had been a simple lifestyle that had suited her perfectly fine. At least, it used to suit her, but after the boy had showed up and became such an interracial part of her life, she could no longer find satisfaction in the solitary things that used to entertain her. Her own endless pursuit of power now seemed meaningless. Everything that she had done had been for the boy, but now that he was gone there didn't seem to be a reason anymore. Her life suddenly felt empty.

She had gone back to the Daycare first and was surprised to see at how much the runts had gotten done on their own. It would never look like the way it had once before, she understood that and so did the others, but the fact that they were trying to rebuild at all was very inspiring. She had volunteered her services which the other seemed to be happy to accept, Lopmon most of all.

It had taken months upon months of almost non-stop work from dawn till dusk, but the day came when the final nails had been hammered and the last of the construction complete. They had stood back, marveling at their creation. Was it better then before or even just as good? Maybe, maybe not, but the point was this; they had rebuilt. Even the face of complete destruction, they had rebuilt.

"Will you stay?" Lopmon had asked her after the celebration thrown for their success. "We're going to need new instructors. I can't think of anyone better."

Renamon had seriously considered the offer and found it very tempting, but in the end she had to decline. At first she had taken the work as a way of getting her mind off of the boy, and for the most part it had done a fine job of it. During the day while she was busy clearing rubble, or constructing walls, or trying to keep any of the little ones from hurting themselves. She found it was easy enough to focus her mind only on the work ahead, but it was during the long, slow nights that she would find herself thinking of the kid; the warmth of his body against hers, the sweet tone of his voice, his wonderful scent. Over time the pain that came with losing him had numbed, but the actual longing for him? That never went away. If anything, she was starting to think that need was only getting stronger.

She needed to find a way to get to him again and one afternoon near the end of construction while she was constructing the new fence; she came up with the idea, one so very obvious yet very much a long shot. Still, if it worked, then it would be worth all the time and effort.

Leaving the Daycare, Renamon had carefully packed for the destination she had in mind; one that would have her retracing a long trek across the landscape. On a warm morning, just as the sun cracked over the horizon, Renamon gathered her things, took one last look at her treetop home, then set off north.

Her travel time at the beginning was much faster than it had been before, now that the only weight she carried was her own, and within only a few days she had cleared the forest and found herself within the sprawling plains with the tree line to her back and the craggily mountains looming before her.

On one afternoon she caught sight of a small, familiar building with a monorail track running through far off to her right, but she made no effort to get any closer. Even from this distance she could see that the single platform the station held stood empty.

Following the tracks after the station was far behind her and the terrain had begun to rise, Renamon repeated a path on foot that she had once traveled in a cabin. Feeling the chilly air nip at her fur and watching as the path before her spread out far and long ahead of her, the fox could not help but long for the inside of Trailmon's warm and cozy cabin, hell she'd even take the motion sickness.

The tracks were steeper than she remembered them being, and traveling them on foot had taken her days longer than she had anticipated, but this time she had prepared. As stubborn as she knew she could be, even Renamon was capable of foresight sometimes.

Back at the Daycare, after Renamon had made up her mind about where she wanted to go, she had asked Lopmon if she could take one of the spare blankets they had gathered for the boarding houses. Lopmon had happily agreed, saying it was the least she could do for all of Renamon's help. It was that very blanket that Renamon wrapped around herself like a cloak as she rose higher up the peaks and the wind turned bitter. Between both her clothing and fur, she managed to fight off the chill.

There was very little food to be found within the endless miles of cliffs and snow up in the Frozen Peaks, leaving Renamon to carefully ration what she had brought. There were days where she needed to go hungry, not knowing how much longer what she had left would need to sustain her. If there was any bright side to the cold, it was preserving the fruits she carried in the satchel she wore rather well, making extending her rations much easier now that she did not have to fear for them quickly spoiling.

During the evenings Renamon would hunker down out of the wind, finding safety and warmth where she could. In the daylight hours, she would burn every moment she had marching ahead, keeping the tracks under her feet so she would not lose them.

It was late in the afternoon when she came across the steep curve. Her legs had been dully aching for most of the day from the steep hill she had been climbing for the past few hours, but what she found when she reached even ground gave her pause.

The track she had been following, perfectly preserved despite its years of neglect, stood destroyed around this bend; the wood shattered and the metal rail twisted in a sharp angle leading off the side of the cliff's edge as if an accident had happened here.

Carefully leaning over the sheer drop that stood alongside her, Renamon peered down into the abyss, seeing nothing through the swirling mists of white snow. But, if the accident she was looking upon was what she thought, Renamon decided it was best that she did not see.

Backing away from the drop, the fox's blue eyes fell upon the broken pieces of wood that lay around the track. The timber was far too wet from the years of snowfall to ever be used for a fire, but even so Renamon had another idea in mind.

Slipping the satchel she had brought off of her shoulder, Renamon tore a long strip from its harness. Keeping that piece of leather balled in her fist, she set to work digging through the broken piles for usable pieces, then set to work.

Should any Digimon walk the path that Renamon had taken on that day, they would come across a strange sight. At the top of a tall incline, at the bend of a sharp curve there stood the broken remains of an otherwise flawless track, and standing at its edge, stabbed firmly into the frozen earth, stood two pieces of wooden track removed from the wreck tied together in with a piece of leather in the shape of a cross. Upon it the name Tex appeared to have been carved into the wood with a claw.

**O O O**

Eventually Renamon found the cave-in that had stopped her train ride with Andrew. From there, she veered off to path and began to follow its winding road. Without the minecar Andrew had spotted to mark the next set of rails, Renamon was left with only her memory to guess the appropriate time to leave the path. She had lost nearly an entire day before she found the rails she wanted and her food supply was nearly exhausted, just like her body. She had been traveling almost non-stop for days, and despite her strength, her legs begged her to rest.

The idea was a tempting one, but she refused to listen. She had a place she needed to go, and someone she needed to see. Renamon refused to stop until she was there. She had long since passed the point of no return, the only options now were to finish her journey or die here in the snow.

Like hell she was going to die.

Just like not having Trailmon, not having the minecar made the path she followed a longer one, but not quite as much as it could have been. At last she reached the mouth of the cave she and Andrew had taken shelter in.

Quickly stepping into the mouth of the cave, Renamon found the lights strung along the ways were as black and dead as they had been on her first time through, leaving the fox to light her own way once again.

It wasn't long before she stumbled upon the remains of the camp they shared to warm themselves; the fire they had built long since dead, leaving only a ring of ashes where it once stood. Still, Renamon found herself kneeling down by the long deserted campsite, looking over at the empty space where Andrew once sat. His thin summer clothes let him shivering from the cold. To warm him, Renamon had pulled the boy close to her body, wrapping her arm and tail about his body. Andrew settled into her easily enough, and soon even fell into a light sleep.

She smiled at the memory. It was hard to imagine how willfully ignorant she had kept herself of her growing feelings for her Tamer. If only she could have convinced herself sooner that there was nothing to be afraid of, maybe things would have turned out differently…

A dramatic moan accompanied by the rattle of chains resonated from further down the cave, breaking her from her thoughts. With a heavy sigh, Renamon pushed herself to her feet.

"Koemon," she called down into the darkness, resting a hand upon her hip, "It's me, you little idiot."

The cheesy moans stopped as quickly as they started. There then came a brief moment of silence that soon gave way to the sounds of bare feet slapping against the stone floor. A few moments later she was being greeted by a recognizable green-furred monkey.

**O O O**

Renamon was more than a little shocked by the carved stone statue she saw standing proudly in the middle of Koemon Village. It was as close to life-sized as a species as short as the Koemon could probably get, but the detail was incredible.

She stared with wide eyes at the near-perfect stone figures of herself and Andrew. They stood side-by-side, both looking ready to drop into a battle stance the second they saw danger, their eyes gazing out protectively over the village huts.

Renamon felt her hand tremble, ready to reach out press her hand against Andrew's stone cheek. While the work did have its rough patches, the likeness was almost enough to make the fox feel as if Andrew were stand right there before her. Had the Koemon that carved the piece (as well as a few onlookers including the human Clayton himself) not been standing right there, she might have allowed herself to place a hand upon the work, if only for a brief moment. In truth, she was a bit glad she didn't, otherwise she would have felt damn silly after the shock had worn off.

"So what brings you back, Miss Renamon?" the professor had asked her after they returned to the human's personal hut.

"I need your help with something," she admitted. "It's Andrew…"

She saw Clayton's eyes go wide with concern, and immediately she realized how what she just said must have sounded like. "He's alright, he's alright!" she quickly corrected. "He's… well, he's been sent back, to your world. And I thought… that… maybe you could help me get there. I… I want to be with him," she finished, trying to hide the redness that had crawled up into her cheeks.

Daring a glance back to the human's face, afraid that he would just inform her that there was nothing he could do and her entire trip had been for not, she instead found a bright smile lighting up his pink face.

"I think I can help you there, ma'am," he replied. Renamon could swear she could already see the gears turning inside his head.

**O O O**

She admitted to the Professor that she didn't know much about all of his egghead science junk, but she would help in any way that she could help with his experiments, then she would. Clayton, who said he was willing to use any kind of help he could get, gratefully took her on as his assistant.

They spent days running an endless number of tests on the Digimite, much of which was far beyond her own comprehension, but she went along with it, and despite her lack of scientific understanding, Clayton admitted to her that it was nice to have a conversation with someone able to string together complete sentences, not to mention reach things on high shelves.

After a long period of time and more failures then she could even count, the day had finally came when they had constructed something that had the potential to repeat the accident that had brought the Professor to this world in the first place. If Andrew had been able to see the device, he would have remarked that it looked like it had come from a bad Sci-Fi movie with its lasergun-like design. To Renamon all that mattered was that it worked; the ascetics meant nothing.

"Now you do understand the risks of this, correct?" Clayton had asked for the third or fourth time that afternoon. "I can not guarantee that the device will take you where you want to go. For all I know it dump you in some completely different dimension, perhaps even in the middle of completely nothingness; a type of universal limbo.

"If it gets me back to him, then I don't care," she responded.

"Andrew, he means quite a lot to you, doesn't he?" he said, meeting her determined gaze.

"More then I could ever explain."

There was a short silence while the Professor took that in for a moment before continuing on. "And you understand that creatures such as yourself do not exist in the human world. Even if by some slim miracle this was to work, you would need to spend the rest of your life in the shadows. To allow anyone other then Andrew to see you would be disastrous."

"I know," she told him.

"And you will wish to do this?"

"Yes."

Clayton placed the device into her hands. "Then you know what to do."

Renamon nodded. After walking a few paces away, she aimed the weapon, concentrated as hard as she could on one place, and pulled on the trigger. The device began to rattle and smoke almost immediately as a beam of white light fired through the Digimite that had been aligned down its barrel. Several feet away a portal had opened up. It didn't look anywhere near as clean or safe as the original had, and that was saying something. Still, their scale-tests had worked, but that was just sending random pieces of junk from one side of the village to another. What she was about to do was... a bit more complicated, but like she said; if it had even a chance of working, then it was worth the risk.

"Are you sure you don't want to come with me?" Renamon had called back to the professor as she placed his device on the ground, the digimite inside reduced to dust from the blast. She didn't have long before the portal closed, these had proved to be much more unstable then they had hoped, but she wanted to offer him once last chance.

"Tempting, but I'll decline. This is my home now and I've grown quite happy here. Good luck, my friend! When you see Andrew, be sure to pass on by greetings."

Renamon said that she would, thanked the man one more time, and then quite literally jumped into the unknown.

When she opened her eyes, she was in middle of soft, cool grass under a night sky. The new smells had been enough to tell her that she wasn't in her own world. As she looked around, Renamon was filled with a sense of familiarity. She had never seen this place before, yet she knew it very well. It had been one of the many things she had picked up from Andrew's mind and the boy's stories about his home. This was his park, the one he had called Blackburn.

The path from here to his home was little more then a straight line and easy enough to remember. The streets were empty at this time at night, but she still stuck to the trees and rooftops. She found that moving around in this urban environment was no different then running from one treetop to another in the forests; maybe even a little easier since she had so many hard, large surfaces to choose from.

She knew his house as soon as it came into view; she even knew which window was his; the one on the second floor, back of the building, far left side. It was the one with an oak tree growing right next to it.

On that first night in his world, Renamon had perched herself on a limb of that tree. She had meant to rap on his window to wake the boy who was sleeping soundly in his bed on the other side, but now that she was here, now that he was at least in reach, she was afraid.

She wanted to let him know that she was here, that she had fought through so much and struggled against impossible odds all for him. But now... she couldn't. What if he didn't want her anymore? What if he didn't _remember_ her? What would she do then? Crippled with doubt she instead watched and waited as the days passed, constantly thinking she had finally worked up the nerve one minute and then losing it again the next. It was driving her mad. It was so sad it was almost funny; even when the boy didn't know it; he still found a way to drive her crazy.

It was several nights later as Renamon sat on the same branch of that tree she had slept in her fist night in his world, acting as the boy's silent defender and eating her meal (humans threw away a surprising amount of perfectly good food) when the sound of his garage door opened perked her ears. Fascinated, she watched as the boy slipped out from under the door with his bike, took one more look at his house, and then headed off. Now, she had seen him go for rides several times, even followed far behind on a few, but never had she known him to go out alone this late.

She followed him all the way to the very park she had entered into his world from and watched as he walked up to one of the structures of plastic and metal that were built for the amusement of the children. She couldn't help but think the Digimon back at the Daycare would have loved to see such toys.

She watched as he climbed to the top of the brightly-colored metal fort, sat down, and then just looked up at the sky. Renamon smiled a little, thinking that she must not have been the only one who sometimes found it hard to sleep.

She had taken position in another tree. She loved how the park was full of them. They made her feel more at home. She watched him, as she always watched him, with a mixture of love and sorrow as she wished so deeply that she was strong enough to just approach him. She knew that she couldn't keep stalking him like this, it was boarding on creepy if not over the line entirely, yet the idea of Andrew not wanting her any more, no matter how irrational of a fear that could be, kept her from moving. There was a lot of things that she could face without blinking an eye, but this? This was beyond what she knew how to deal with.

The boy lied down on his back. If his eyes were open, then he might have even seen the fox sitting not too far above him. In a way, she almost willed him to open his eyes, if he was the first to see her, then the whole problem might solve itself.

Renamon had tried to talk herself into taking this chance, of just opening her mouth and saying hello. That was all she had to do, simple as that. Why was everything so much harder with the boy around? Is this was love did? Did it make every aspect of your life suddenly turn into a huge ordeal? The biggest question she had, though, was if it drove her up the wall as much as it did, why did it feel so damn incredible at the same time?

From below her Renamon caught Andrew's voice as he whispered her name. Her heart stopped. For a moment, she thought that he had seen her after all. For all she knew, maybe he had always known that she was around and was just waiting for her to make the first move. That was possible, wasn't it?

His next three words told her that, possible or not, it wasn't true. However, what it also did was answer a lot of her fears; he _hadn't_ forgotten her and he _did_ still want her.

Renamon felt heat crawl up into her cheeks as her heart went from not moving at all to beating at a mile a minute. She knew that if she didn't take this one moment, then she never would. This was the best chance she was ever going to get or else she'd spend the rest of her damn life following the poor kid because, while she was brave enough to face down any creature that became a threat, she as still too damn chicken to talk to person that she... well... that she loved. She loved him. She loved Andrew and did so with all of her heart.

Focusing on that and _only_ on that, Renamon allowed herself to slip from the tree branch and land on her feet next to the kid was a dull thud. Hearing the noise and feeling the vibration she made, the boy's eyes shot open and he scrambled up into a position that was somewhat sitting, somewhat leaning back, looking like a deer caught in a bright light.

He looked at her, his mouth hung slightly open and his eye full of surprise and disbelief. Renamon thought she could almost hear his brain questioning his eyes by that stunned expression he wore.

"Hi, Rookie," she whispered. It took a surprising amount of effort to not start fidgeting.

"R-Renamon? Is that... are you... how did you-"

The fox leaned in and placed a finger across the boy's lips, silencing him.

"Shhh," she said. "There'll be time for questions later, but first there's something I've been meaning to give you."

With that said Renamon dropped her finger, leaned in the rest of the way, and pressed her lips against his. The sensation was far beyond anything she had ever imagined. The taste of his lips, soft and sweet, was the greatest delicacy she had ever known, and the warmth that it spread through her body seemed to melt her heart and blank out her mind at the same moment. Everything she had suffered, everything she had sacrificed, all of the pain and loneliness, all of it was worth it just for this one kiss.

A moment later, the boy was kissing back. A moment after that, they were embracing one another. As Renamon's fingers slipped through Andrew's hair and his hands wrapped themselves tightly around her fur, they gave freely all of the love and emotions that they had kept hidden away.

There were going to be hurtles up ahead of them, not the least of which was how Andrew was going to explain Renamon to his mother, but all of that would come later; questions for tomorrow, one could say. As for right now, they were together and they were happy. And in that beautiful brief moment where their lips touched for the very first time with all of the passion that could only come from the young at the peak of their affection, this world, and every world that lay beyond felt as though they rested in perfect peace.

Destiny had been fulfilled.

**The End.**


	33. Author's Notes

**Author's Notes**

First of all, let me say; DAMN that was longer then I thought it would be. Hands down the longest story I've ever seen through to its end.

Okay, now that I've got that out of my system, let me REALLY start off by saying 'thank you' to everyone who has read this story to its end and a double thank you to those of you who took the time to feed my precious ego with your kind words. As much as I try and tell myself I write these stories for my own enjoyment, I have to admit that there is nothing in the world that feels better then knowing that there are others other there that enjoyed reading it. You all rule.

Next, let me address a few things that have been brought up or asked that I haven't answered. First of all, I do know that Renamon mentioned in some episode or another that Digimon do not have genders. This, I thought, was a lying sack of lying lies since many Digimon are referred to as 'he' or 'she', others have 'woman' or 'lady' in their names and others. . .well, look at them! So I did some searching on the internet and thanks to some inside sources (AKA: Wikipedia) I found that this was changed in the English dub. The original line was how Digimon do not have 'biology' meaning the ability to reproduce. This, I felt, worked better for the theme of my story as well justified how Renamon could run around bare-ass naked. Not that I'm complaining.

I was asked once where this story fits into the overall timeline of the series, and I would say probably several years after Data Squad, now I never saw all of that season (never really cared for it, actually) so there are bound to be inconsistencies and for that I apologize.

Quite a few of you predicted that we would see LadyDevimon change into Angewomon. Honestly, that was a good idea and if I had thought of it before I penned out the basic overview of this story, I might have just done it. Sadly, however, LadyDevimon was headed for a more tragic fate. I knew it was coming, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. For that, I apologize. As Andrew had said, she wasn't really an evil person, but someone who was confused. In the end, though, I think she died a hero.

This Renamon is obviously not the same as Rika's. The Renamon that Andrew became teamed with was no where near as 'in control' of her emotions, much more prone to anger, and maybe a little bit more vindictive. She did have a better sense of humor, all be it a little dark.

Renamon and Andrew aren't really too different. They are both people who thought they were okay with the paths their lives had taken, but really weren't and it wasn't until meeting each other and being given a purpose that they start to understand this and a strange kind of relationship begins to grow from there. First to acceptance, then trust, friendship, and finally love, but it's not until its almost too late that they can finally express it.

Even though I had a rough outline when I started this story, some facts changed as I wrote. The funny thing about a story is that, when you really get into it, you find that you're not really the one in change. The story tells itself and you're just the one hitting the keys. If you enjoyed this tale, then really you should be thanking Andrew and Renamon, and even characters like Myotismon. They were the ones telling me their story, after all. If, however, you have issues, then those you can lay at my feet for not presenting the story in a way that it was asking to be told.

As I said, there was as lot that changed as I went on. For example, LadyDevimon was never a part of my first draft. Her part of betrayal was originally going to go to Dracmon, and that would have changed the story quite a bit, but as I went on I found I needed another female character, perhaps someone to force tension on Renamon. On her own, she would have never said anything about her feelings to the boy. That's just not her way, but with 'The Bitch' around, she was almost forced to express herself or risk losing him. In a way, I feel bad for LadyDevimon, at first she only wanted Andrew because she saw him as just another conquest, but she really did start to love him, she just never knew how to show it and the one time she tried the best she could muster was overly sexual.

Now you see why this thing has an M rating, eh?

I like to write my stories as realistically as I can. That's the great thing about taking these shows and stripping them of their G ratings. It's fun to see how it changes things.

Anyway, I'm rambling now. At some point I might come back in and add a few things to these notes as I think of them, but for right now let me just say this: Thank you all for reading. It really does mean a lot to know that you've stuck with me on this long journey. We've shared a few laughs, lost some good people, and stood in the face of ultimate evil, and got to see the boy get the girl (after everything they went though, I think they deserved it). I hope the story didn't become too hard to swallow at times, and I thank you for putting up with the mistakes.

Keep your minds and hearts open, and never let them close.

Now, if you'll excuse me; it's been a hard day's night and I've been working like a dog.

-CannedCream

First Draft: 3/28/10

EDIT: I've been asked a few times if a sequel is being written, and the best way I can answer is with a frustrating "not at this time." I hoped that you loved reading about the adventures of Andrew and Renamon as I did working with them, and as much as I would LOVE to continue their story, sadly I just don't have any meaningful ideas that would translate into a proper sequel. However, at the same time, I'm not saying that it could never happen, either.

So a definite maybe!

Updates: 7/24/12


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